


Give Them Triumph Now

by lizzzsunshine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Books, Canon Compliant, Deviates From Canon, Drinking, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Future Sexual Content, HP: EWE, Het, Humor, Language, Light Angst, Marauders' Era, No Bashing, No Slash, Romance, Sexual Tension, Swearing, The First Order of the Phoenix, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Time Turner, Work In Progress, first wizarding war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:12:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 110,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7697920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzzsunshine/pseuds/lizzzsunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the battle is all but lost, a chance collision of two powerful magicks sends Hermione to a time where war is brewing and light is often indistinguishable from dark. The Strands of Time will be rewoven, and the victor is anyone’s guess. </p>
<p>"Who knew that when the Killing Curse met the Sands of Time, this would happen?" </p>
<p>Canon-Compliant until DH Ch 35.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

* * *

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

* * *

Now hear, you blissful powers underground —  
answer the call, send help.  
Bless the children, give them triumph now.  
—Aeschylus,  _The Libation Bearers_

* * *

**Black.**

All I knew was black.

Was this the black of death? The black of nothingness? Simply the black of the backs of my eyelids?

What was going on? Where  _was_  I? I sifted through my fuzzy thoughts, wracking my brain for the last thing I remembered.

Then it hit me.

_Oh, fuck._

* * *

_"CRUCIO!"_

Bellatrix Lestrange stood over me, eyes bright and dancing with delight, smirking as my screams grew louder and louder.

The curse was unbearable fire in veins, ice splintering into my very soul. But I knew this pain. It was familiar. It was as if my body recognized her magic as it coursed like waves throughout my body.

I guess too many Cruciatus Curses can do that to a witch.

It ended just as quickly as it had begun. I was sprawled on the stone floor of the Great Hall, panting, desperately searching for the breath her curse had stolen. But I refused to let a sob escape my lips this time. No tears would be shed. This was not Malfoy Manor. I was at Hogwarts.

_This was my home._

I would  _not_  show weakness here.

"Oh my sweet, sweet little Mudblood," Bellatrix taunted. "I was hoping we'd meet again. Did you really think you could beat me with my own wand?"

I felt her walnut wand grow uncomfortably hot beneath me where it had become lodged while I was under her curse. I knew she was right.

She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "And I thought you were meant to be the clever one." Dimples formed in her sallow cheeks as she smiled sweetly down at me, twirling a new wand between her fingers. The air that had finally found its way back into my lungs vanished once again.

I  _knew_  that wand.

She cackled maniacally.

"But it's no matter. When I took care of my  _dear_  little niece, she was generous enough to leave me a gift." Her foul breath assaulted my nostrils and her matted hair brushed against my cheek as she bent lower. A whimper escaped my lips, and she leered before whispering triumphantly into my ear, "And this one works just as well as mine ever did."

_Oh God, I'm going to be killed with Tonks's wand_.

Bubblegum pink swam to the front of my mind. Sweet Tonks, who had become like an older sister to Ginny and me…

"So what are we going to do with you?" she asked slowly as she righted herself, her voice a mocking singsong. "You tried so hard, didn't you? You, that filthy blood traitor Weasley, and  _precious fucking Potter._ " She spat Harry's name from her mouth as though the taste of it revolted her.

Tried hard, indeed. We all tried our goddamned hardest, but green jets were flying and bodies were falling all around me. Where were Ginny and Luna? We had been dueling her together, hadn't we?

_Why weren't they helping?_

I knew the answer before I had even asked. She had killed them quickly—but me? No, with me she wanted to  _play_  with her food before eating it.

She cast the curse again. I tried not to shout out. I failed.

"I enjoyed our little chat so much last time," said Bellatrix as if discussing the last time I came round for tea. "But you know, I think the second time will be even better."

Breathless with excitement, she withdrew a dagger from the front of her robes near her breast. Even in my addled state, I couldn't help but wonder how she kept a cursed knife in such a precarious location. It was identical to the one that had taken Dobby's life, and I gasped as my forearm throbbed.

The curse  _knew_  where it had been before.

"You've always been my favorite, you know," she said softly, her grossly dilated pupils boring straight into mine. Her voice changed to an almost loving tone, but was no less crazed than before. "If you'd come from decent stock, I might have even said we were alike. Beauty  _and_  brains. Every great wizard needs a clever witch by his side, after all. You could have been just like me." She shrugged before finishing matter-of-factly, "But sadly, blood will always win out."

_Just like me._

Her shrill voice rang in my ears.

_Just like her._

She sighed dramatically. "I guess all that's left is to take one last little look-see at just how filthy your blood is, little Mudblood."

Her vile words seemed to bounce around my skull like the locket had against my chest when it became agitated.

_Mudblood_.

Rage coursed through my veins.

No, not again.

_Mudblood_ —

'No one cares what you think, you filthy little Mudblood!'

Ron. Ron belching slugs, over and over.

_Mudblood_ —

Draco's grin, his usually pale face flushing with glee.

'You'll be next, Mudbloods!'

_Mudblood_ —

Griphook's shrewd eyes widening as I proclaimed 'Mudblood, and proud of it!'

_Mudblood—_

_Mudblood._

**Muggle-born.**

…Muggle.

_No, not like her._

Her eyes gleamed maliciously as she made to bring her horribly familiar blade to my throat, ready to mutilate my body again with her curse. But I was  _done._  I may be a damn good witch, but sometimes…

Well, sometimes you don't need a wand.

My body felt like lead and the aftershocks of the Cruciatus Curse blazed through my exhausted muscles like Fiendfyre, but I knew what I had to do.

My legs swung out abruptly and connected firmly with her shins.

_**Muggle.** _

Caught off guard, she fell like a rock, the silver knife slipping through her fingers and clattering to the ground. Her head hit the stone floor of the Great Hall with a sharp crack.

Of course she hadn't been expecting it.

I scrambled to grab the walnut wand from beneath me and sprang to my feet.

" _Expelliarmus!"_

Tonks's wand left Bellatrix's hand, soaring towards me. With hitherto unknown agility, I caught it. Both wands grew warm in my hands, but this time it was a pleasant, comforting warmth—like the heated touch of holding hands with a lover.

_Neither of these wands belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange any longer._

I aimed the walnut wand directly at her heart,  _Avada Kedavra_  on my lips. Could I do it? Could I actually say the words?

_Was I capable of taking a life?_

The murder of Bellatrix Lestrange would save so many. Would that be enough to allow my soul to remain intact?

Her eyes flashed in surprise when she saw where the tip of my wand was trained, but they quickly narrowed.

"Think you can kill me, Mudblood?" she asked, running her tongue obscenely across her top teeth. Her voice, although no more than a deathly whisper, seemed to echo around us despite the noise of the surrounding duels. "How confident are you? It isn't as easy as I make it look, you know." She giggled slightly as if she were about to reveal a coveted secret. "It's not only about power. _You really have to mean it."_

And then her laughter became wild, as if the idea of me killing her was a hilarious joke told over dinner.

_A Mudblood and a Death Eater walk into the Leaky…_

Merlin's saggy bollocks, I'm going insane too.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a jet of green and a flash of red collapse as someone new was sacrificed for the Greater Good.

Another Weasley had fallen.

_Please don't let it be Ron. Not Ron, too._

_Not Ron. Not Ron._ _**Never Ron.** _

But I knew it had been him—I'd recognized his long, lanky frame as it hit the stone floor.

I stifled a sob.

The feel of his lips on mine, hungry with passion, his arms wrapped tightly around me, fingers threaded through my hair.

The burning look in his cornflower blue eyes as he pulled away, his smile clearly saying  _finally_.

It wasn't meant to end this way.

He was meant to be it.  _We_  were meant to be it.

And Harry was meant to have  _won._

_No more._

I tightened my grip on the walnut wand— _my fucking wand_ , I decided right then—and looked straight into Bellatrix's crazed eyes. It struck me in that moment that they were the precise shade of silvery blue as Sirius's had been.

Something within my mind snapped.

_I could do it._

No, I  _had_  to do it.

This was the woman that murdered Sirius Black. She took away any hope of Harry having something like a family. She killed Tonks. Oh, sweet Merlin, Tonks and Remus. A family destroyed. Teddy Lupin was now another orphan of this wretched war. He didn't even have a godfather.

Because Harry was dead. Ron was dead. Ginny. Luna. Fred. So many more.

I thought of Harry's lifeless body, limp as a ragdoll, lain at the feet of Tom-fucking-Riddle.

**No.**

No more.

_No fucking more._

Bellatrix was still laughing.

I cast the curse. Her eyes widened. As the words I never thought I would speak left my lips, I knew I meant them. The job had been done properly.

Magic beyond any I had ever felt before flowed swiftly from my brain, traveling down my spinal cord and along the nerves of my arm until reaching my wand.

_It felt really fucking good._

Violently green light shot from the tip of my wand, hitting her directly above her heart. The light left her eyes with laughter still on her lips.

_Just like Sirius._

I smiled too.

" _No!"_  a high, cold voice rang throughout the hall. The fury in the solitary word was almost palpable.

Voldemort had finally noticed that Bellatrix wasn't fighting anymore.

_Shit._

Tom Riddle didn't say another word. I suppose he didn't think a lowly little Mudblood deserved an explanation for her death. The hall was filled with a silence so thick it seemed to swallow us whole. All that was left was the blood pulsing in my ears.

Before I could react, before any of the remaining members of the Order could prevent it, he cast the curse. As his scarlet eyes burned with rage and his lipless mouth formed the incantation, my reality shifted to slow motion. The lethal green light left the Elder Wand, and I knew that this was  _it._

The long game was ended, the snitch had been caught.

It was time to leave the air.

There was no Dumbledore to sweep in and save the day—to save us, to save the whole goddamned world. There were no flying hippogriffs, no do-overs and no going back. This time there was no turning back the clock.

_Turning back the clock._

I suddenly became very aware of the delicate gold chain around my neck, of the small hourglass nestled between my breasts. At the end of last year, I'd summoned it on a whim from Professor Dumbledore's office at the same time as I had summoned the forbidden books on Horcruxes. I knew it was the same one I had used throughout my third year—the  _MM_  engraved in gold verified that it was indeed Professor McGonagall's Time Turner. I had no clue why Dumbledore had it in his office, but I'd long since learned not to question the man's motives. I religiously kept it around my neck, hidden from sight, waiting to use it if there was no other option left.

It was meant to be my last resort.

I looked down and eyed the tiny sparkling hourglass that had made its way to the front of my shirt sometime during battle.

I almost laughed. It really was quite a shame. There wasn't even enough time left to turn back time.

As I gazed down at the twinkling golden sand, the curse finally reached me. However, it didn't make contact with my body. Instead, the jet of green light collided with the tiny hourglass.

The Time Turner exploded.

I screamed in agony as miniscule shards of glass embedded into my chest and face, as the gold frame of the trinket melted into my skin. My vision was obscured with red as blood ran into my eyes. But there was no missing the dazzling golden light that had begun to surround me. It shone with brilliance beyond words and pulsated rhythmically as if building up to something important.

The Great Hall abruptly dissolved and I felt the jarring sensation of flying backwards very quickly. I knew this feeling, or at least I thought I did. This time was  _different_. I had never moved backward in time this rapidly. My stomach churned.

_Too fast. Oh God, too fucking fast._

My body wasn't built for this. I attempted to brace myself as I was squeezed from all sides, almost like Apparition, but far,  _far_  worse. I was being crushed from every direction. My body was going to implode upon itself. I opened my mouth to scream in pain, but my lungs felt as if they would never hold air again.

Time was going to kill me.

I tried to close my eyes, but my eyelids wouldn't budge; they were glued open as if I were required to see the madness swirling around me. The golden light grew brighter and brighter, thrumming fiercely until it was almost white.

Fucking hell, who knew that when the Killing Curse met the Sands of Time, this would happen?

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The force of my unexpected stop caused me to fall forward, face first to the ground.

_Brilliant._

Not only was I lost in time, but my nose was broken too.

I raised myself up onto my hands and knees, retching violently. The entirety of the bread and cheese Aberforth had given us made its way onto the stone floor.

_Fuck_.

I groaned and rolled over onto my back away from the sick. I couldn't even summon the energy to vanish it away. The ceiling of the Great Hall loomed over me, moon full and stars twinkling cheerfully against the black of the night sky.

_Well,_  I thought ruefully,  _at least I'm still at Hogwarts._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take a moment to comment/review!
> 
> (9/15/17): I made a few edits to this chapter. Nothing too drastic and definitely not anything that alters the plot.


	2. Stranger in a Not-So-Strange Land

* * *

**Chapter 2: Stranger in a Not-So-Strange Land**

* * *

"Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now."  
"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but have yeh seen anythin', Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"  
"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated while Hagrid watched him impatiently. "Unusually bright."  
_— Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ ,  J.K. Rowling

* * *

"What the fuck!" a voice yelled from the direction of the doors leading to the Entrance Hall. Oh no, no, no, _why_ did I have to appear in front of someone? I know the rules of time travel, and this was definitely breaking… well, essentially all of them.

I groaned again, both in exasperation and pain. My vision swam as another wave of nausea washed over me, and I knew I must have lost a good bit of blood. I would likely pass out any moment.

Well, if I've already fucked it up, I might as well fuck it up properly and get myself some help.

"Help… please…" I gasped out. The unknown wizard rushed to me from the double doors, his trainers squeaking lightly against the stone floor as he ran across the Great Hall.

"Are you alright? Fucking hell, what happened to you?" A concerned face loomed over me.

A face that looked very, very familiar. My eyes widened in recognition.

I closed them quickly.

_No…_

"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered under his breath. "What the hell happened to you? I've got to get you to Madam Pomfrey, okay? Can you walk? No wait, never mind, of course you can't. Stupid question. I'll carry you. Thank Merlin it's a full moon and I was out wit—well anyway, there's hardly anyone is in the castle right now, seeing as it's summer. Who knows how long it would've taken for someone to find you…" His rambling died away as he bent down and scooped me up with strong arms.

I couldn't even attempt to protest. It was taking all of my remaining strength just to retain consciousness. He held me securely against his chest as he walked out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase toward the hospital wing. My eyes were still closed tightly, but I breathed in slowly through my broken nose, ignoring the throbbing pain and letting the smell of him fill my nostrils.

An earthy musk, with a lingering of well-worn leather and cigarette smoke.

It was like a long forgotten memory, familiar and comforting.

My mind flashed back to the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

* * *

**12 January 1996**

* * *

It was a little past midnight as I sat at the table in the dusty kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place, my old dressing gown pulled tightly around me, and a cup of strong tea warming my hands.

"I'm really sorry to bother you, Sirius. You didn't have to stay. I just…" I looked up at the cobwebbed ceiling, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I just couldn't sleep. We're returning to Hogwarts tomorrow, and with everything that's going on…" my thought trailed away and I picked at a scorch mark on the old wooden table. Fred and George, perhaps?

Sirius laughed his usual barking laugh, taking a sip of his Firewhiskey.

"It's fine, Hermione," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "If there's anyone in this house that understands not being able to sleep, it's me. Do you want to talk about it?" and to my surprise, he leaned forward slightly from his seat at the head of the table, as if to tell me he was listening attentively.

I bit my lip, thinking.

"No… I mean, well, I suppose it couldn't hurt. It's nothing new, really. It's just that I'm worried about Harry. Things are becoming quite serious, aren't they? With Umbridge and the Ministry, Voldemort… and these dreams Harry's been having… I just have this feeling—this visceral gut sensation—that something bad is going to happen soon. And I, well… _I can't bear to lose Harry, Sirius."_

I took a deep, shuddering breath, attempting to steady my voice. "He's my _brother_. He's essentially the only family I have. My parents are Muggles, you know, and they just don't _understand_. Harry and Ron—they're all I have. I can't lose either of them. I would do anything for them both, anything to _save_ them both, but I just don't know how to help Harry. There's _always_ a way, always a solution, but right now, I just can't think of anything I can _do_." I ducked my head to hide the ridiculous tears beginning to form, and took a sip of my tea.

It burnt my tongue.

I looked up and searched his eyes. Not quite gray, but not quite blue, either.

Definitely more of a silver.

He was silent for a moment, but his eyes held something peculiar behind them. It wasn't the pity I had expected to find there, a look I'd become accustomed to recently. A look that said quite plainly that I am a child and I couldn't possibly understand the world.

No, it was as if he completely understood what I meant. Because he had felt it too.

"Hermione, sometimes, there is no solution."

I raised my eyebrows at him.

_Bloody good advice, Sirius._

He continued. "I know how it feels to think you have no family. My parents disowned me when I was just a teenager. Even before then, I was an outcast in my own home. I mean, look at this place." He waved his hands about, motioning to the surrounding kitchen, and I knew what he meant.

_Look at how dark and absolutely batshit my family was._

"I ran away when I was sixteen. My parents wanted something from me that I couldn't give them—something I refused to give them—and I'd had enough. But that was the day I realized I did have a family. I had James and Remus, and at the time, even the fucking rat Peter," he stopped, looking a little sheepish at his strong language. "Sorry about that."

I smiled and shook my head, giving him a look that clearly said for him to continue.

"James and his family took me in, no questions asked. Dorea and Charlus had become far better parents to me than my own, ever since the summer after my first year of Hogwarts. James was my brother in all but blood."

He breathed in deeply and took another sip of his Ogden's Finest.

"And then after Hogwarts, when the First War was raging—" He scuffed his hand over his face, as if trying to find the right words. "Members of The Order, our friends, family, were dying every day. My greatest fear was that something would happen to James or Lily, and I wouldn't be there to help. Distrust was rampant, and we knew there was a spy within The Order." He tensed slightly and his eyes darkened. "I was convinced it was Remus. Looking back, I can't believe I trusted fucking Wormtail more than Remus…" His voice died away as he stared down pensively into the now empty glass in front of him.

He poured another.

"Want a bit, Hermione?" he asked, holding up the bottle and gesturing to my empty cup of tea.

I bit my lip again. What would Mrs. Weasley say if she saw?

I held back a smile. Ah, fuck it.

"Oh, why not? Just a little, though."

He poured some of the amber liquid into my teacup and I took a small sip. It burned slightly as it slid down my throat, but overall it was much more smooth going down than I expected. It felt pleasantly warm as it settled in my stomach.

Much better than Butterbeer, in my opinion.

I took a larger sip.

"But, all of that rambling was to say this: keep your friends close to you. My past haunts me every day, but there's no going back and changing it. But I _can_ help to make sure we don't make the same mistakes in the future. I can't leave this godforsaken house, so I can't be there for Harry like I need to be. But _you can._ And bad things will happen. Horrible things. That's the inevitable truth of the fucked up world we're living in right now. But Hermione, just make sure that when they do, you and Ron are standing right next to Harry, ready meet whatever comes."

He sighed again and drained his glass. "Well, I think we both need sleep, don't you? Remus and Tonks are taking you lot back to Hogwarts on the Knight Bus pretty early in the morning."

I gulped down the last bit Firewhiskey remaining in my cup as he stood. I was surprised to see how steady he was—the bottle of Ogden's was almost completely empty.

He held out his hand to help me to my feet, and I took it.

"Thank you, Sirius. This really has helped. More than you know."

I meant it.

As I let go of his hand, I hesitated for a moment, then reached forward and wrapped my arms around his middle in a tight hug. He was still alarmingly thin from his time in Azkaban and his subsequent two years on the run.

This man slept in cave, living off rats, all so he could be close to Harry.

_So he could protect Harry._

In that moment, I vowed to do the same. No matter what the cost may be.

He seemed startled, but quickly embraced me in return. My nose was buried in his tee shirt, and I breathed in.

An earthy musk. Leather. Cigarettes.

Like my first taste of Firewhiskey, it was much more pleasant than I would have expected.

"It'll be okay, Hermione," he said quietly as I released him.

I murmured my thanks as I left the kitchen. As I made my way up the dark stairwell to the room Ginny and I shared, a thought crossed my mind.

_I hope Harry knows just how lucky he is to have a godfather like Sirius Black._

* * *

**Date Unknown**

* * *

It was a scent I hadn't encountered in almost _two fucking years._

My stomach churned again.

I mustered up what little energy I had left and turned my head to look up into the face of my savior, knowing what I would see, but hardly daring to believe it. My eyes met his, and beautiful, silvery blue stared down at me. I quickly buried my head back into his chest, not caring that I was drenching his shirt with my blood.

No. It can't be him. Impossible.

_How far back have I traveled?_

Jesus fucking Christ, I'm going to be sick again.

He pulled me tighter against his chest and continued walking. "Who are you?" he murmured into my hair. "Who did this to you?"

I took a deep breath, gathering my best Gryffindor courage and slowly turned my head back to him, examining his face closely. His hair was just as shaggy as I had known, perhaps a bit shorter, but—his face. His face was beautiful, with high, sculpted cheekbones that screamed to the world he was indeed a Black, and long, dark eyelashes that would make Lavender Brown sick with envy. He had a bruise forming on his right cheek, and his bottom lip was split. But something was very different.

His face was missing the hardness Azkaban had left upon it.

I was currently in the arms of a young Sirius Black _._

A _much_ younger Sirius Black.

_How bloody far back did I travel?_

The question escaped my lips before I could bite it back.

"What's the date?" I rasped, throat unbearably raw.

He looked down at me with a curious expression on his face. "Er, I'm pretty sure it's almost 5:00 AM now, so today is August 29th."

"And the year?"

His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "1977, obviously."

…1977?

**Oh.**

" _Fuck,"_ I breathed.

And then all I knew was black.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N) Thank you for reading! This is my first attempt at fanfiction, and I'll be the first to admit, I'm not a writer whatsoever. This is mainly just for kicks, and to see if I can incorporate all of the aspects I personally look for in a Sirius/Hermione fic. So let me know what you think so far! Comments/reviews would definitely help the process along. Anything you'd like to see? Anything you think I should avoid? Please let me know!  
> -liz


	3. Impeccable Memory

* * *

**Chapter 3: Impeccable Memory**

* * *

"What we need," said Dumbledore slowly, and his light blue eyes moved from Harry to Hermione, "is more _time_."  
_— Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,_ J.K. Rowling

* * *

**Pain.**

The pain hit me unexpectedly with the force of a well-placed hex.

But I knew this pain. I'd encountered it once before. The after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse throbbed throughout my body, sizzling along my every nerve. I tried to call out—whether in pain or for help, I wasn't sure—but my lips wouldn't budge. My eyelids were heavy. My body seemed to be made of lead.

Suddenly, my mouth was gently opened, and a warm liquid was coaxed down my throat. Surprisingly, I didn't cough or sputter. Magic really helped things along, I reckoned.

"What do you think happened to her, Headmaster?" a familiar voice whispered nearby. A warm cloth was placed across my forehead as I felt the effects of the pain potion spread. "How did she get inside the castle?"

The dreadful throbbing was slowly replaced with a pleasantly warm tingle. I sighed internally with relief.

"I haven't the foggiest, Poppy," Dumbledore said quietly. "No doubt she'll have quite a story to tell when she wakes up. What is the extent of her injuries?"

"She almost certainly has endured the Cruciatus Curse more than once. Multiple lacerations covered her torso and face and glass was embedded in the wounds, along with some sort of sand-like substance. I've cleaned them the best I could, but the sand wouldn't budge. I've tried every spell I know, but nothing will heal them properly." Frustration leaked into her professional tone. "There was also a circle of metal melted into her skin. Gold, from what I can tell. I've managed to remove all traces of it, but it will leave a very curious scar."

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied thoughtfully. "The poor girl has been through quite an ordeal."

"That's not all, Headmaster. I healed numerous minor cuts and bruises. There is also evidence that she's been in contact with various dark curses within the last 24 hours. There were recently treated burns covering her body, unquestionably from the Flagrante curse. It leaves a certain residue behind, as I'm sure you know." She took a deep breath. "But the most alarming is her older wounds; the ones that have already healed—look at her left arm, Albus." Madam Pomfrey seemed to be on the verge of tears.

I mentally cringed. I guess I won't be hiding that particular scar from Dumbledore. The blanket covering my arm was shifted, and I felt Albus Dumbledore's long fingers trace the angry red lines of the crudely carved word marring my skin.

"You're quite right, Poppy," he murmured softly. "This is certainly disturbing. Do you know why it would heal in such a manner?"

"Cursed, I would imagine. The poor girl," Madam Pomfrey sniffed. "Do you know who she is, Albus?"

"I have few ideas," he replied vaguely. "When do you think she'll wake?"

"I've just given her a simple pain potion, so the only factor that seems to be keeping her asleep currently is her own mind attempting to mend itself. She could wake at any moment," she responded.

"And you'll send for me the moment she does?"

"Of course, Headmaster."

Dumbledore exited the hospital wing, his high-heeled boots clicking against the stone and robes swishing quietly.

"What is your story, you poor, poor girl?" I heard Madam Pomfrey sigh as I drifted off to sleep once again.

* * *

The next time I woke, it was to quiet voices a few beds away from mine. Thankfully, this time I found I was able to open my eyes. Thank Merlin, the dreaded blackness was finally gone. Light was streaming through the open windows of the hospital wing, and I blinked quickly as the pale pink light of dawn filled my eyes.

"How are you feeling, Moony? You slept all day yesterday."

Ah, of course Remus is here too. It was a full moon when I arrived. I turned my head a little to the right, attempting to get a glimpse of them. The curtains were drawn around Remus's bed, but a small gap gave me a decent view of the two teenaged wizards.

"No worse than normal, Padfoot," Remus replied, and then hesitantly asked, "How was I?"

Sirius waved his hand dismissively as he replied. "A little harder to keep in line without Prongs, but nothing I couldn't manage. I did get a nice whacking by the Willow, though. Poppy vanished the branch she used, and without Peter, I couldn't freeze the tree." He reached up and rubbed the back of his head, where the Whomping Willow had apparently left its mark.

Remus laughed. "Sirius, are you a wizard or not? Why didn't you just levitate another branch to the knot?"

Sirius grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. "Didn't think of that, honestly." His tone then changed abruptly and he lowered his voice further. "But anyway, something strange happened after I left the Shack yesterday morning."

Remus raised his eyebrows questioningly.

_Shit._

I closed my eyes until there was only a small sliver remaining through which to see. I didn't want them to notice I was awake.

"I was walking through the Entrance Hall on my way back to the tower. The doors to the Great Hall were open, and right as I was passing, this bizarre light came out of nowhere. Filled the whole goddamn room! It was like a flash of lightning or something. Nearly shit myself."

Remus was now looking at Sirius with his mouth gaping.

"And that's not even the craziest part. Once the light was gone, there was a _girl_ in there. Just lying on the ground at the end of the Ravenclaw table. Looked like she'd been through hell. Covered in blood and moaning and shit. I ran in to help her, and the poor witch could barely move. All I could do was pick her up and carry her here. She's in the bed down there at the end," he finished, gesturing in my direction.

Remus was still staring with his mouth open. He finally seemed to get a grip on himself, and asked Sirius, "Do you know who she is? A student? Teacher?"

"No idea, mate," Sirius replied with a shrug. "I didn't recognize her, but she can't be older than seventeen or eighteen. She looked to be about our age. But I've never seen her around the castle, and you know I have an impeccable memory when it comes to pretty birds. "

"Impeccable, Padfoot?" Remus snorted. "Word of the day?"

"Actually, it was last Tuesday's. I'm a bit behind," he replied dismissively. "Now stop getting off topic. There was something else weird about her too…" he trailed away, as if trying to find the right words.

"What?"

"When she first saw me, she had the strangest look on her face. Almost like…" He glanced in my direction, and I quickly closed my eyes even more. "Like she _knew_ me. Like recognizing an old friend you haven't seen in ages. It was almost like she was shocked to see me. _Me_ , specifically…" His voice died away again. "I don't know mate, but it was mad as hell. You know what was the first question she asked me? The fucking date. Specifically the _year_. She must've hit her head pretty hard."

"What happened to her, though?" asked Remus. "You can't apparate inside the castle, so how the hell did she get in?" 

Sirius shrugged again. "No fucking clue. But whatever happened, it must have been horrible. She looked like shit—clothes torn, covered in cuts and bruises, blood everywhere. Looked like she'd just come off the wrong end of a fight with a Hungarian Horntail. She passed out while I was carrying her here. At first I thought she had _died_. Scary as hell. Madam Pomfrey sent me to fetch Dumbledore, but then wouldn't let me back in to see her. I'm only here now because I promised not to leave your bedside."

As if summoned by the sound of her name, the door to Madam Pomfrey's office opened and she hurried into the ward. "Ah, Mister Lupin, good to see you're finally awake," she said as she drew back the curtains surrounding his hospital bed and placed a tiny vial of potion and a goblet on his bedside table. "How are you feeling this morning?"

Remus flashed a winning smile up at Madam Pomfrey. "Oh you know me, Poppy. All I need is a few hours of sleep and a pain potion or two."

Poppy? Merlin, is Remus _flirting_ with Madam Pomfrey? I expected that from Sirius, but _Professor Lupin?_ Sirius snorted, and even I couldn't hold back a smile.

Madam Pomfrey scoffed. "A few hours, Mister Lupin? A day and a half would be more accurate. Oh, and look who else is awake! How are you, Miss...?"

I jumped in surprise at being addressed. Apparently my smile hadn't gone unnoticed. Madam Pomfrey was striding toward me, wand out. I had to remind myself not to pull out my wand too. She was only performing diagnostic spells, but I still hated looking down the end of anyone's wand.

"Miss?" she asked again.

I blinked up at her.

"Yes?" I croaked. My throat was still raw from screaming.

Her voice was gentle. "Your name, dear?"

"Oh."

Shit. My name. I couldn't tell her my real name. I shouldn't even be talking to her! Wincing slightly, I sat up slowly, playing for time as my mind raced through my options.

"Dumbledore. I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore. Immediately, please."

She looked surprised, but replied with a nod, "Well certainly. I was about to call for him, actually."

"Thank you!" I called to her retreating back as she returned to her office to Floo the headmaster.

I sank back into my pillows, sighing. A cough to my right made me to jump again. I turned to find Sirius and Remus staring at me.

Sirius was the first to speak.

"Are you okay? You look a lot better than you did. I mean, not that you looked bad or anything. Okay, well that's a lie—you looked like shite, all bloody and everything. I sure hope the other bloke looks worse! Er, okay, maybe that was a bad joke." He ran his hand through his hair as he spoke. "I don't know if you remember me or not, but I was the one that found you yesterday morning. In the Great Hall. After you…" he faltered. "Um, appeared. I carried you here. So how are you? How are you feeling?" He was beginning to move toward my bed, eyeing me earnestly.

I laughed. A full, hearty laugh that rose deep from within my belly and reached all the way to my eyes. It felt _so_ refreshing, just like laughing with Harry and Ron on the bank of the lake after jumping from the dragon. Christ almighty, was it only two days ago that we broke into Gringotts?

Or I suppose it's actually more than twenty years in the future.

_No. Don't think of that now._

I mentally shook away the thought, and addressed Remus. "Does he always ramble like this?" I asked, my eyebrows raised in question.

Remus stopped looking surprised at my odd behavior, and began to laugh too. "Only when he's nervous. It doesn't happen very often, so you should feel honored."

Sirius scowled at his friend. "I'm not nervous, you dick. I just want to know how she is." He turned back to me. "You did look pretty rough yesterday, though." He was at the foot of my bed now. Sweet Merlin, this wizard was beautiful.

"Yeah, I know I must have been quite a sight. I'm feeling much better now though, just a bit sore. Thank you, by the way," I said, locking eyes with him. My heart felt close to bursting as I stared into his eyes and didn't see the haunted, dead look of Azkaban behind them. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't helped me."

"Of course! I'm just glad I was there. It's summer still, you know. The term is about to start, but there aren't a lot of people in the castle yet. I've been here for nearly two weeks already, though—Transfiguration internship with Professor McGonagall. And Remus here was er—feeling under the weather. And there's nothing Poppy can't fix. Oh shit, did I even introduce myself? I'm Sirius Black, and this is my best mate, Remus Lupin."

I laughed again at his rambling. "It's nice to meet you, Sirius," I said, and then turned to Remus, willing my heart to unclench at the sight of him, young and whole and _alive_. "And you as well, Remus. I'm, er—"

But thankfully, I was saved from having to introduce myself, for at that moment, Professor Dumbledore entered the hospital wing. Sirius backed away from my bed, returning to Remus's bedside.

Dumbledore strode in wearing robes of deep violet with gold trimming, smiling at the sight of me sitting up. "Ah, good to see that our visitor is awake. How are you feeling, my dear?" he asked as he reached my bedside.

Oh, it was _so_ good to see Dumbledore. His blue eyes twinkled characteristically over his half moon spectacles as he look down at me. No matter my feelings toward future-Dumbledore and the clusterfuck he left us in, his presence was always comforting.

"Much better, sir. Thank you. Um…" I motioned for him to come closer, lowering my voice as he bent his head. "Would it be okay if we talked privately? It's extremely important."

"Of course. One moment." He pulled out his wand from the inside pocket of his robes and pointed it at the curtains surrounding my hospital bed. They slid shut, hiding us from view. I grabbed the walnut wand—no _my wand_ , I reminded myself—from the bedside table, and pointed it in the direction of Sirius and Remus.

" _Muffliato,"_ I murmured. I certainly didn't need them hearing this conversation. Dumbledore conjured a squashy lilac-colored armchair, and settled into it next to my bed, eyeing me with rapt attention.

I pointed my wand directly at his head.

"Professor Dumbledore, I'm terribly sorry about this, but I need to ask you a security question to prove it's really you. Standard protocol, please understand…"

_Godric, he's going to think I'm absolutely mental._

"But er, what is your favorite flavor of jam, sir?"

Dumbledore stared at me with an amused expression. "Raspberry, my dear."

I sighed in relief. I knew I stood no chance of besting Dumbledore in a duel, but things were already fucked up as they were. I didn't need my situation going even more sideways by spilling my secrets to an imposter. I silently thanked Harry for sharing that seemingly unimportant bit of information with me.

"Thank you, Professor. Now, I know this is going to sound extremely far-fetched, but please, I need you to try to keep an open mind. I—"

He held up his hand. "First, I believe we should begin with your name."

I bit my lip worriedly. "Actually, Professor, I'm not so sure that's a good idea. Um, well, you see, I can't tell you my real name for the same reason that I appeared in the Great Hall two nights ago."

Dumbledore didn't look angry at my refusal. On the contrary, he looked positively intrigued. "And your reasoning behind this assumption?"

I licked my lips, contemplating how to best to proceed.

Oh, sod it all.

"I was born on September 19, 1979. I began my first year of Hogwarts on September 1, 1991. If I'm currently where I think I am…" I paused for a moment.

_Just say it, Hermione._

"Then I'm from the future."

Dumbledore didn't look surprised at this revelation. Instead, he nodded. "Yes, yes, I thought it might be something like this."

I gaped at him.

"It is impossible to apparate within the walls of Hogwarts, as I'm sure you know if you were—or perhaps I should say if you _will be_ —a student here. The castle's protective enchantments were not breached the night you arrived. The only way you could have materialized within the Great Hall as you did was if you were already _inside_ the castle. Do you understand?" 

I nodded. "I think so, sir."

"Good, good. So, where to start," he hummed to himself, thinking. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt for you to tell me your name. I can't imagine it altering anything beyond what your arrival here has already."

"Yes, sir. Well, my name is Hermione Jean Granger. I'm a Muggle-born. And for me, two days ago it was May 2, 1998."

His eyes widened as he grasped just how far I had travel, but I ignored it.

"But sir," I began before he could respond. "What do you mean 'alter things more than I already have'? I have a good bit of experience with time travel. Professor McGonagall gave me a Time Turner during my third year of school so I could take extra classes and do hours over again. I know the rules of time travel, and one of the most important is _you can't change the past_."

"Oh!" he said, clapping his hands together. "Minerva lent you her Time Turner? You must be an exceptional student, Miss Granger."

I flushed slightly and smiled at his praise. Time may change, but Hermione Granger is still the same witch.

"And as for your question, I have a few theories, but nothing more than conjecture at this point, I'm afraid. However, I think learning the circumstances surrounding your jaunt back to our time might help to clarify a few aspects of your situation."

"Well, sir, there was…" I paused, my eyes glazing over slightly as I recalled my future. "A battle. Here inside the castle. Death Eaters infiltrated Hogwarts. Voldemort wanted Harry desperately, and Harry needed to find an important object within the school. Oh, but you don't know why he wanted Harry yet, do you? We'll have to get to that later. But, there was a battle. A horrific battle. So many died, Professor. Members of the Order, my friends, those that were more than family to me—all of them incredible witches and wizards—gone."

Harry and Ron's faces swam to the front of my mind and a tear made its way down my cheek.

I took a deep, steadying breath, swallowing the swell of emotion, and continued. "I was one of the few left. But then I killed one of his most faithful followers. Riddle was absolutely furious when he saw what I had done. Before I had time to do anything but watch, he cast the Killing Curse. I thought I was finished." I shuddered as I recalled the speeding jet of green light. "Tom Riddle rarely misses when the curse leaves his wand. But it didn't hit me."

I reached over and retrieved the delicate golden chain from the bedside table. The tiny hourglass was completely obliterated.

"It hit the Time Turner that was around my neck—Professor McGonagall's Time Turner. When the curse made contact with the glass, it exploded. Glass and Time Sand went everywhere and the gold setting melted entirely." I reached up to my face, tracing one of the small scars I knew must be shining there. "There was this strange golden light. It completely surrounded me, brighter than anything I'd ever seen. And then I began flying backwards, but not like you normally would when using a Time Turner. It was different. Much faster, and much more brutal."

I shivered at the memory.

"But suddenly, it stopped, and I was back in the Great Hall. Except now, Sirius was there, _alive_ , helping me from the ground and telling me it's 19-bloody-77."

Dumbledore's face had gone white. "Death Eaters. Voldemort. In the castle…?" he whispered. "The future is far more grave than I could have imagined."

I nodded sadly, "Sir, that isn't even half of the horrors to come."

Dumbledore sighed, and began to massage his temples. "Oh dear, dear…"

"And, er—sir?" I asked, interrupting his contemplation.

Dumbledore looked up.

"Do you think there's any way for me to return to my time? I've never read of someone traveling this far into the past—except for Eloise Mintumble, but that was a right disaster—and well, I've never heard of any methods of traveling _forward_ in time, either."

I held my breath as I waited for his response. I didn't want to go back.

_Harry's body—lifeless and broken._

_Ron falling to the ground—my_ _Ron._

There was nothing left there.

Dumbledore sighed again. "Miss Granger, how much do you know regarding the Sands of Time?"

I scrunched up my nose, thinking. "Well, not very much, I suppose. There's not a lot of literature available to the wizarding public on it, is there? It's studied intensely by the Department of Mysteries, so the information is kept closely guarded. In the wrong hands, the results could be devastating."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "Correct. However, there are those outside of the Unspeakables with knowledge of the Secrets of Time."

My eyes widened. I had an idea of where this conversation was going.

"Right now, there is only one person alive that fully understands the complexities of time and of the coveted Sand that allows us to move along its strands. That person is the creator of the Sands of Time, and the inventor of the Time Turner. He's also one of my oldest friends. The alchemist, Nicholas Flamel."

I gasped. "The only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone?"

Sweet Merlin, that statement certainly brought back memories.

Dumbledore nodded again. "The very same. I'm glad you know of him. Alas, Nicholas and Perenelle prefer a quiet life these days. There are very few he fully trusts. I am delighted to say that I am able to count myself amongst them, and my dear friend has chosen to share certain bits of his research with me."

"So does that mean you have an idea on how I ended up here?" I inquired hopefully.

"I have a theory, yes. But before I can say with any certainty, I must confer with Nicholas."

Nope, not enough. I needed more information than that.

They didn't call me an insufferable know-it-all for nothing, after all.

“But sir, no one has ever safely travelled this far back in time! Five hours has always been the limit; any further could result in dire consequences.” Dumbledore nodded gravely, allowing me to draw my own conclusions. "You said my presence here has already altered things. Does...” I took a deep breath, hardly believing the question I was about to ask. “Does that mean I have the ability to _change the past_?”

Dumbledore looked into my eyes as if searching for something. Which, he probably was, I reminded myself. Successful Legilimens and all.

I didn't attempt to close my mind to him. I had nothing to hide whatsoever.

"Yes, Miss Granger," he said quietly. "I believe the moment you left the Great Hall in 1998, your future was essentially obliterated. The future is no longer set in stone for you. The Strand of Time you had been traveling upon was snipped when you arrived here in 1977, and is now being rewoven as each second passes."

I felt sick. I sank back into my pillows, breathing heavily as the hospital wing began to swirl in front of me.

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, before patting my hand soothingly. "I think that is enough for today, Miss Granger. I'll allow you get some rest," he said as he stood to leave, vanishing the lilac armchair with a swish of his wand. 

I sat up again, startled by his abrupt departure. "Wait, but sir! What am I going to do here? In 1977, I have nothing. No home, no family, no money…"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Why my dear, you're going to attend Hogwarts, of course. I assume you were in your seventh year?"

I nodded. "I've completed up until my sixth. I wasn't able to attend my seventh year due to—well, frankly sir, my two best friends and I were completing a task you assigned us."

"Well then, I believe I owe you a completed education!" he said, looking positively delighted at the prospect. "Hogwarts has funds available to those in need, and as for family, I have often found over the years that you can find loved ones in the most unlikely of places." He paused, then added, "I think it will be acceptable to tell others your name, but please, keep your true origins closely guarded, Hermione. There's no need for me to tell you the danger you would be in if the information were to spread to unfriendly ears. Now, I believe Poppy has some potions for you, so let's not deprive her of her duties any longer. We'll speak again tomorrow. Goodbye, Miss Granger."

Without waiting for my response, he turned and flicked his wrist at the curtains surrounding my bed, which slid open. His robes billowed behind him as he exited the hospital wing.

I blinked at the closing door. Well, that's that, I reckon. Sighing, I looked around at the rest of the ward. Sirius was still here, lounging in a chair next to the bed where Remus was dozing. His shoes were kicked off, and his feet were propped on the bed beside Remus, one foot shaking restlessly. I stifled a giggle as I noticed his socks.

Scarlet and patterned with golden snitches.

Oh, if only Harry could see this. They were more alike than Harry ever knew.

Sirius was looking at me over the top of his muggle motorcycle catalogue. "Everything okay?" he asked, eyeing me closely.

I smiled at him and nodded, "Yep, everything's fine." I licked my lips— _I might as well go ahead and get it over with._ "I don't think I got a chance to introduce myself earlier. My name is Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger."

My heart beat a little faster as Sirius grinned back at me. "Lovely to meet you officially, Hermione," he said with a little salute. "Are you hungry? Poppy just came by and said that Remus's breakfast will be up soon."

Now that I thought about it, I noticed my stomach had been growling incessantly. I hadn't eaten anything since before the battle. "Famished, actually," I replied, returning his grin.

He stood, sliding his feet back into his unlaced high-top trainers. "I'll let her know. Be back in a bit." He flashed another smile at me before turning to leave.

The sun had fully risen now, and I leaned back into my pillows once again, staring out the window at the high treetops of the Forbidden Forest. An owl swooped low over the swaying branches before rising and slowly disappearing from sight.

_This is utterly bizarre,_ I thought to myself. I'm currently lying in a bed in the Hogwarts hospital wing—in 1977—with the younger counterparts of my best friend's escaped convict godfather and my former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Hogwarts was still pristine and whole, nothing like the war-torn battlefield I'd left behind. I pictured the destroyed, curse-riddled corridors and the bodies lying in rows in the Great Hall.

I choked back a sob.

Sirius returned, followed by Madam Pomfrey who was carrying a handful of potion vials. Her wand was out and pointed at two breakfast trays floating along in front of her.

"Now Miss Granger," she stated briskly as she placed several vials of potion on my bedside table. She neatly levitated a breakfast tray onto both Remus's bed and mine in turn. I assumed Sirius had relayed my name to her. "Please, eat up. You are alarmingly malnourished."

_Yes, living off scavenged mushrooms and wild berries will do that to a witch,_ I thought dryly. Although Fleur had provided the three of us with many home-cooked meals during our short stay at Shell Cottage, we had often forgone dinner, instead choosing to remain hidden away in the smallest bedroom with Griphook, plotting our bank heist for hours upon end.

"Er, yes. I haven't really had much opportunity for proper meals lately…" I replied, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room. I was extremely grateful she chose not to respond.

Remus had finally fully awoken, no doubt due to the smell of bacon wafting throughout the room, and was heartily tucking into his own breakfast. I supposed his transformations left him ravenous. I looked down at my own tray, and despite my pangs of hunger, a fresh wave of nausea washed over me and I suddenly felt terribly exhausted again. The pain was beginning to return.

I picked up a slice of buttered toast and nibbled on the edge, willing my stomach to knock it the hell off. I attempted to take a sip of my pumpkin juice, but apparently it was an even worse idea.

I pushed away my tray.

"Er, Madam Pomfrey?" I called to the matron, who was changing Remus's bandages. She flicked her wrist and fresh bandages began to wind their way around the wound on Remus's leg. She hurried to my bedside.

"I'm not feeling well. Is there anything you can do for the pain and nausea?" I asked, lying back and closing my eyes.

"Certainly," she replied as she levitated four of the vials from my bedside table to hover in front of me. She rotated her wrist, and the stopper was removed from the first. "This is a simple vitamin and nutrient potion. There's no way your body can mend itself if you aren't properly nourished."

I tossed back the vial and gulped down the potion quickly. It was surprisingly tasty, with a sweet trace of honeysuckle.

She continued, unstoppering the next three vials, "Here is a pain potion, an antiemetic for your nausea, and a Dreamless Sleep potion. I think a nice, long rest will speed up your healing process greatly."

I didn't argue. In my current state, a long, dream-free sleep sounded like pure paradise. I swallowed all three potions as quickly as possible, the final purple potion warming my insides pleasantly, almost like Firewhiskey. If she continued to speak, I wasn't aware of it. The room instantly became hazy and my eyelids began to droop. The hospital wing faded away before me, and I was carried off to a blissfully deep sleep before my head had fully hit the pillow behind me.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you like this longer update! What do you think of young Sirius so far? I'm still trying to work out my characterization of him. I'm also trying to keep Hermione as in-character as possible, with the exception of the obvious strong language, so please let me know if you ever think she's becoming too OOC. I do plan to take her in a more dark direction than canon, though. As I said last chapter, is there anything you'd like to see? Anything you think I should avoid? Please leave a review and let me know!
> 
> -liz
> 
> Note (10 Sept 2016): I made a small edit in Dumbledore and Hermione's discussion on Time Travel. I'm trying to adhere as closely to canon as possible, even though this is an AU, Canon-Divergent story. Personally, I consider J.K. Rowling's Pottermore writings to be secondary canon, and when I originally wrote this chapter, I completely neglected a few aspects of the Pottermore article on Time Turners. It's a very small edit, so if you're re-reading, let me know if you spot it! Reviewers that notice get their very own concerned Sirius Black in snitch-patterned socks :)
> 
> Also, while I have no problems with The Cursed Child, for purposes of this story, we're not including the script as canon. If you've read it, I think the reason why is obvious.


	4. Goats and Other Furry Beasts

* * *

**Chapter 4: Goats and Other Furry Beasts**

* * *

Aberforth seemed lost in contemplation of his own knotted and veined hands. After a long pause, he said, "How can you be sure, Potter, that my brother wasn't more interested in the greater good than in you? How can you be sure you aren't dispensable, just like my little sister?"  
_— Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows,_   J.K. Rowling

* * *

I woke up to Harry sitting on the edge of my bunk, shaking me gently awake as had become our usual routine. Damn, I guess it's time for my bloody watch again. Maybe Ron found something to eat for breakfast this morning, or maybe, I thought hopefully, we at least had enough teabags for a pot of tea.

_Dream big, Hermione. Dream big._

My heart warmed a little as I thought of Ron. Ever since he had returned, he always made it a point to be the first one awake. He'd gone out every morning in search of breakfast for the three of us. Although he often returned to the tent empty handed, I knew he was just looking for any way possible to make up for his absence. Maybe I should have a talk with him soon? Tell him that I've fully forgiven him?

I groaned and rolled over, kicking away my blanket. "Haaaaaarry…" I moaned in mock annoyance, my eyes still closed. "Urgh, is it time for my watch already? Did you see anything overnight?"

"Er—I'm not Harry," an unfamiliar male voice replied. "But it _is_ time for you to get up."

My eyes shot open and my wand, which was always tucked beneath my pillow, was in my hand in a flash, quickly pointed at the neck of the intruder.

"Woah, woah, calm down, Hermione! I just wanted to let you know that Mipsy brought you breakfast!"

I blinked stupidly at him.

A young Sirius Black was standing next to my bed, wearing jeans and a worn leather jacket, holding his hands up in surrender. I glanced around the room, attempting to get a grip on my bearings. The scene was almost comical. Remus was sitting up in his bed, frozen in place with a slice of toast halfway to his mouth, and looking at me as if I had lost my goddamned mind. A tiny house elf wearing a neat little tea towel stamped with the Hogwarts Crest was standing next to Sirius, holding a breakfast tray and looking very alarmed.

_Oh, right._

**1977.**

_Fuck._

I slowly lowered my wand, resisting the urge to validate his identity.

And failing.

_They're going to think you're a total whack-job._

But I couldn't stop myself.

I raised my wand again.

"Oh, er, sorry, Sirius. You startled me. But—if you don't mind, I have to ask you a question. What was the first thing I said to you when I arrived here at Hogwarts?" I asked him, wand still pointed at his head.

_Smooth, Hermione. Really smooth._

Sirius looked at me curiously, hands still in the air. "After I found you? The first thing you said was 'What's the date?' Are you sure you're okay?" he said, eyeing me carefully.

I sighed as I lowered my wand. I'm fucking it up every which way, aren't I?

However, I knew that Professor Lupin would be proud. _My_ Remus would commend me for never letting my guard down.

"I'm okay, promise. Sorry about that, I just had to be sure…" I replied. I ran my hand through my tangled mess of hair, attempting to make the unruly curls lie flat.

Thankfully, he didn't question me further as he lowered his hands. However, his eyes were no longer on my wand, or even my face anymore. At that moment, I realized I had kicked my blanket to the ground, and my hospital pajamas left little to the imagination. I quickly snatched the discarded blanket from the floor and covered myself. I shot him a reproachful look, but he simply smirked back good-naturedly.

"Well, Mipsy here has breakfast for you," he said, gesturing to the house elf. The elf's enormous blue eyes were moving quickly from Sirius, to me, and then back to Sirius again, as if trying to understand what the hell was going on.

Suddenly remembering that she had a job to do, the tiny house elf stepped forward, short little arms stretching as she placed the breakfast tray in front of me. She then gave a low bow, her large pointed ears flopping forward. Straightening up again, the elf said, "Hi, miss! Mipsy has brought miss breakfast! Mipsy wasn't knowing what miss likes, so she's bringing miss a bit of everything!"

A bit of everything, indeed. I glanced around the loaded tray and decided to start with a cup of tea. One lump of sugar, as splash of milk, as always. I took a sip and the warm liquid felt soothing as I attempted to overcome my embarrassment.

"Thank you very much, Mipsy. I really appreciate it. My name is Hermione," I said as I held out my hand. I might have come a long way since the days of S.P.E.W., but house elves still deserved polite and proper treatment.

Mipsy eyed my outstretched hand warily, but she placed her tiny hand in mine and shook it gingerly before quickly pulling it away and bowing again. "Of course, Miss Hermy! It's Mipsy's pleasure, always Mipsy's pleasure! Mipsy must be getting back to the kitchens. Only one more day 'til the feast miss, and the house elves has work to do!" And with another bow, she Disapparated with a crack.

Smiling at the spot where she had left, I took another sip of tea and began to dig into my breakfast. I tried not to eat too quickly, but it was a struggle. I didn't want to make myself sick from the rich Hogwarts cooking, but the meal tasted magnificent after what seemed like ages without proper food. Someone nearby cleared their throat, causing me to look up, my mouth still full of fried egg.

Apparently Remus had recovered from his shock.

"Are you sure you're okay, Hermione? Those were some very impressive reflexes," Remus asked, still staring at me.

_Fantastic._

Trust Remus to not let it go.

In a manner that was reminiscent of Ron, I swallowed down the egg almost whole. "Er, yes. You can never be too careful, right?" I replied vaguely.

_No, of course I'm not a soldier. Of course I haven't been fighting in a war. Of course I haven't been living in bloody a tent for the past year, on the run from the greatest dark wizard of our time. Of course I haven't been hunting down pieces of Lord Voldemort's fucking soul._

I took a large gulp of tea and swallowed thickly.

_They'll never understand you, Hermione. They're just children. Unlike you, they haven't yet experienced the horrors of war._

I shuddered.

Sometimes the voice inside my head sounded exactly like Tom Riddle—the nasty little voice that had haunted my thoughts whenever it was my turn to wear the locket, insidiously preying on my every worry, every little insecurity.

Remus continued to eye me strangely, but I suppose he decided that now wasn't the time for an interrogation. He instead sipped his tea before saying, "Of course. I think we might be able to learn a thing or two from you about defense." He smiled warmly, as if to tell me that it was all right.

I flushed slightly, but thankfully I was saved from another uncomfortable situation, again by Professor Dumbledore's impeccable timing.

"Ah, good morning, Mister Lupin, Mister Black, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said as he strode into the hospital wing, beaming around at the three of us. "I trust you're all well this morning?"

We all murmured our good mornings at the same time, causing Dumbledore to beam even more brightly.

Turning to me, he said, "Now, Miss Granger, I was hoping we might be able take a stroll of the grounds this morning. If you're agreeable, that is?"

Oh, a walk on the Hogwarts grounds. I couldn't think of a more perfect way to spend my morning. 

"Yes sir, of course! But, er, is Madam Pomfrey okay with that? I know she can be quite strict when it comes to her patients," I said, glancing at the door to the matron's office.

Sirius shot me a strange look at this statement, and I flushed again.

Once again, as if her name was a bloody summoning charm, Madam Pomfrey entered the hospital wing.

"You're quite right, Miss Granger. How are you feeling? Any pain whatsoever?" Madam Pomfrey was standing next to my bed before I had even blinked, wand flourishing in complicated movements as she performed silent diagnostic charms.

"Only a little sore. Other than that, I feel completely fine," I said as I crossed my fingers beneath my blanket. I didn't want to spend any more time here than I had to.

_Ginny's small voice saying, "Ron—Dumbledore's dead."_

_The phoenix song lilting in through the open mullioned windows—a song filled with equal parts mourning and hope._

Fucking hell, _get a grip_ , I chastised myself. Now is not the time. I scrubbed my hand across my face as if to wipe away the onslaught of memories.

"Wonderful, wonderful," she acknowledged curtly. "Yes, Headmaster, she seems perfectly ready to be discharged."

Madam Pomfrey flicked her wand and a small box came soaring to us from the direction of her office. She opened it, levitated out four small vials, and said, "Miss Granger, before I allow you to leave, you'll need to take each of these potions. I'll be sending you along with a week's worth as well. Please take them as directed on the label and return any unused vials to me in one week. And no strenuous activity for at least the next month. You've had quite an ordeal. Your body needs a chance to properly heal."

I nodded quickly in relief and used my wand to uncork each tiny bottle, gulping down the potions in a rush. "Absolutely," I said to her as I finished the last potion. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. Thank you for everything."

She smiled kindly, and I saw a tear forming at the corner of her eye. "Of course, Miss Granger. Please come back to see me if you need anything at all. And that's not only limited to my healing abilities."

I thanked her profusely, touched by her sentiment, and turned back to Professor Dumbledore, lowering my voice. "Sir, would it be okay if I went somewhere to get ready for the day? Perhaps the Prefect's Bathroom on the fifth floor?" I asked quietly, looking up at him hopefully. I simply adored that bathroom, and honestly, I needed to escape to any location in the castle not haunted by tragedy.

I couldn't help but notice the way Remus's eyebrows shot up as I said this. Bloody werewolf hearing.

I needed to be more careful.

He smiled and replied under his breath, "Of course, Miss Granger. The current password is 'rubber duck.'" Then, his voice returning to normal, he said, "Why don't I meet you in the Entrance Hall, in say, approximately an hour?"

"Perfect, Professor. Thank you."

He turned to leave, stopping at the foot of Remus's bed to address the two wizards. "Mister Lupin, Mister Black, I trust you'll be remaining in the castle until the start of term tomorrow?"

"Yes, Professor," Sirius said from his seat at Remus's bedside. "Today is the last day of my internship with Professor McGonagall, and if Madam Pomfrey says it's okay, Remus was looking forward to joining me."

Dumbledore beamed once more at them, clapping his hands together. "Splendid! I'll see you two at lunch then, I imagine." And with that, Dumbledore turned on his heel and exited the hospital wing.

"Madam Pomfrey?" I said, turning to the matron. "When I arrived, there was a bag in my pocket. A beaded one?" I inquired, praying my little beaded bag had made the trip back in time as well.

"Yes, yes, all your belongings are here," she reassured as she retrieved a paper bag from the end of my bed.

Thanking her, I opened it and peered inside. There was no other wand in the bag. I suppose Tonks's wand was probably stuck somewhere between here and 1998. And dear _God_ , the clothes I had been wearing when I arrived smelled absolutely foul. Come to think of it, _I_ probably smelled awful. When was the last time I had showered? Probably the closest thing to it was the little swim our dragon-friend had forced upon the three of us. I snatched up my beaded bag from inside of the paper one. It felt comforting simply to hold it.

"Er, well, I'm going to change. Be right back," I said to no one in particular as I pointed my wand at the curtains, drawing them closed and casting a quick _Muffliato_ out of habit. I opened my bag and summoned a set of clothes from its depths as quickly as possible. I dressed in the first ones I found, ready to get to the Prefect's Bathroom for a proper bath. I glanced down as I pulled on my jeans. Freezing in place, I gazed at my arm as I was reminded of the word etched there.

**_Mudblood._ **

I shivered.

Revolted at the sight, I closed my eyes and pointed my wand at my arm, casting a quick charm to shield the word from view. The Concealment Charm was generally used to cover minor blemishes such a pimples, but with a few adjustments, it seemed to hide the obscene scar perfectly. Hopefully it would last all day. I added the box of potions Madam Pomfrey had given me to my bag and drew back the curtains surrounding my bed.

"I guess I'll see you around, then?" I said to Remus and Sirius as I made to exit the hospital wing.

Sirius eyed me up and down, then snorted. "The Chudley Cannons? Really?"

I flushed and looked down at the orange emblem emblazoned across my chest. Of course I had grabbed one of Ron's shirts.

"Er, well—let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best, shall we?" I quipped, quoting the Cannons's motto I'd heard so many times from Ron.

Sirius laughed even harder. "You're a strange witch, Granger, you know that?"

I smiled and with a wink I replied, "Of course. It keeps things interesting, don't you think?" 

Giggling quietly to myself at the audacity of what I'd just done, I left the hospital wing.

Sirius was still laughing behind me.

* * *

As I exited the Prefect's Bathroom and passed the statue of Boris the Bewildered, I realized that I felt better than I had in ages. Apparently a proper meal and a relaxing soak—complete with bubbles the size of footballs—was exactly what I needed. I walked along the fifth floor corridor, humming _Weasley Is Our King_ under my breath, feeling downright _invigorated_ and ready to discuss with Dumbledore what was to come next. As I reached the marble staircase, I spotted Professor Dumbledore waiting in the Entrance Hall, his silver hair and beard shining in the light streaming through the opened oak front doors of the castle.

"Perfect timing, Miss Granger," he said, offering me the crook of his elbow to escort me.

I smiled as I accepted his arm. "Thanks, Professor."

We made our way out of the castle and down the front steps to the grounds. We chatted about nothing of great importance as we walked, discussing our favorite Muggle bookshops and how delicious we both found Madam Rosmerta's Cornish Pasties. Our conversation ceased as we reached the edge of the Black Lake, halting beneath the shade of my favorite beech tree. My mind wandered back to lazy Sunday afternoons with Harry and Ron, and occasionally Ginny, lounging by the lake as we finished our homework. I smiled sadly at the memory.

Dumbledore conjured a small wooden bench and we both sat in silence for a while, staring out at the dazzling sunlight reflecting off the lake. The Giant Squid was drifting lazily near the surface, tentacles floating in swirls about him.

I broke the silence, deciding to take the plunge with the most difficult question first. "What am I supposed to do now?" I asked him quietly, my voice slightly strangled.

He was silent for a moment longer as if considering his response. "I'm not quite sure," he replied finally. "But for now, my best advice for you is to simply _live your life._ It appears you weren't offered that opportunity often in your past."

However, 'simply living my life' wasn't enough for me.

_Not anymore._

"But sir!" I said, jumping to my feet. "I have so much information. I know things that could save countless lives! Are you asking me to sit back and do _nothing?"_

Dumbledore looked up, surprise etched on his face. "Why, of course not, my dear!" he replied incredulously. "But do you have any idea of the difference you could make by merely being here? By befriending those in need of it? By simply being in the right place at the right time? I would never dream of asking you to sit back and watch the future unfold. I don't know the specifics of what your future held, but from what I can gather, it was a very dark place, indeed. I think you were sent here for a purpose, Hermione." He paused for a moment, then added, "Not just to the past, but to August of 1977 _specifically_."

I paced back and forth in front of him for a few minutes as I contemplated this statement.

_Was my purpose here in 1977 the same as it had been in 1998?_

I stopped abruptly and turned back to face the Black Lake. The Giant Squid's long tentacles were rising up out of the water now, swaying slightly in the breeze. I returned to my spot on the bench beside Dumbledore, tugging on the ends of my hair as I considered how best to approach the next portion of the conversation.

"I know how to defeat him," I whispered quietly.

"I thought you might," Professor Dumbledore said with a nod. "I take it that it's not an easy task?"

I shook my head. "You left the job to my best friend Harry, and he also entrusted me and Ron with the secret. We'd spent the past year trying to accomplish it."

I took a deep breath. Dumbledore needed to know. 

"He has Horcruxes, sir," I managed get out, choking a little on the word _H_ _orcrux_.

Dumbledore was silent again, but I felt him tense next to me. After a long moment, he asked, "Horcrux _es_ , as in plural, Hermione?"

"Yes. A seven-part soul," I whispered, recalling Professor Slughorn's memory that Harry had described to us. "' _Isn't seven the most powerfully magical number?'_ he had asked. He didn't just want to be immortal, he wanted to make _certain_  he could never possibly be defeated. But I know what they are, and I even know where some of them are hidden. As of now, I think he has created five, and I'm confident of the locations of at least two."

We both continued to gaze out upon the lake, letting my revelation marinate in our brains.

Dumbledore was the next to speak, his voice, too, barely more than a whisper. "Hermione, do you want to destroy them? Do you want to change your future?"

I looked up at him in astonishment, " _Of course_ I want to destroy them! One of them almost killed one of my best friends. The horrid diary opened the Chamber of Secrets again! And the rest, well, suffice it to say that they are the most vile—the most evil—sir, he defiled some of the most ancient and powerful of magical objects for his own gain. I can't _not_ get rid of them!"

Dumbledore patted my hand comfortingly, and with a nod, he replied, "No less than I expected from you, Miss Granger. You are quite a clever witch indeed, aren't you? So young, yet so much has been asked of you…"

I laughed hollowly. "Professor Lupin once said I was the 'cleverest witch of my age'he'd ever met."

If only _my_ Remus could see me now.

"Professor Lupin? I have to say, that certainly has a nice ring to it." Dumbledore hummed slightly. "Well, Hermione, I hardly think this is a job that could be accomplished by one witch or wizard alone, do you?" he said matter-of-factly.

I looked up at him, desperately hoping he meant what I thought he did.

He sighed. "I think it would be best if left this conversation here for now, don't you agree? I propose that we meet in my office once a week to discuss our plans further. This is not something we can enter into lightly, after all."

**_We._ **

Oh, thank _Merlin_. From my experience with his future counterpart, I was expecting much more secrecy than this.

Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "Now, on to other pressing matters. You need a story."

"A story?" I asked, looking over at him blankly.

"We can hardly tell the rest of the school you've attended Hogwarts before, can we?" he chuckled. "No, we need to devise a previous life for you, Hermione—one that others won't be able to uncover as false. You are also in need of a guardian."

I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, but sir, I'm already eighteen. I'm of age, I don't need a guardian—"

"I am aware of that. However, I find that having someone—oh, what is it that the Muggles say?— _always_ _in your corner_ , can never hurt, after all. I've taken the liberty of calling in a favor for you. Have heard of my brother Aberforth?"

I scrunched my nose in confusion. Where was Dumbledore going with this? 

"I've met him, yes," I responded slowly. "The owner of the Hog's Head, right?"

"Precisely," Dumbledore nodded. "Aberforth owes me a favor. I helped him out of a spot of trouble with the Ministry recently—some accusations of improper goat charming—so he has agreed to assist us. How would you feel about allowing him to be your 'father' of sorts?"

I stared at him, dumbfounded. "But sir, I'm _M_ _uggle-born_. You've seen my arm—"

"I am also very aware of your parentage," he said patiently. "However, you also know of the danger that would befall you if your true identity were to be exposed. I think disguising you as a half-blood, the half-blood niece of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, no less, would be sufficient protection. We'll spread the story that you retained your Muggle mother's surname and studied in America at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to avoid claims of favoritism here at Hogwarts. But sadly, due to your mother's untimely death last month, you were forced to return to Britain.

"And as for your arm, I am sure we can find a way to keep it hidden from prying eyes." He paused, looking down at me over his glasses, before asking, "So what do you say? Are you willing to become part of the Dumbledore family?"

I was quite literally speechless. I simply stared at him for a moment before nodding. "And Aberforth…" I said slowly, still trying to wrap my brain around the question. "Aberforth is… _okay_ with this? When I met him, he didn't quite seem like the sort to warm up to a 'daughter' he's never met?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, Aberforth is certainly the gruff type, isn't he? But I think you'll find that once you get to know him, he can surprise you."

"Er, well thank you, Professor. This is far more than I could have asked for." I stared down at my hands for a moment before asking, "Why _are_ you helping me so much? Not that I'm complaining at all, but—"

Dumbledore stood, holding out his hand. "I simply believe we have the same goals, Hermione. Would it not be mutually beneficial for us to assist one another?"

I nodded silently as he helped me to my feet.

"Now, I think you can call me 'Uncle Albus' from here on. You are my niece, after all." He reached a hand inside of his robes and pulled out a small bag of gold. "How would you feel about a trip to Diagon Alley for your school things? Hagrid is around here somewhere, and I'm sure he would love to accompany you."

My heart soared as I pocketed the gold.

_Hagrid._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry that there isn't a ton of S/H interaction in this chapter, but I promise, the next update will be full of it. What do you think so far? Remus and Sirius are becoming a bit suspicious, but rightfully so. It wouldn't be a romance fic if there wasn't a bit of drama. Should she trust Dumbledore? What do you think of Aberforth joining the show? Please let me know what you think! Anything you'd like to see in the story? Anything you'd rather I avoid?  
> :)  
> -liz


	5. Amongst the Dead

* * *

**Chapter 5: Amongst the Dead**

* * *

"It'll probably help you get in character, though," said Ron. "Think what that wand's done!"  
"But that's my point!" said Hermione. "This is the wand that tortured Neville's mum and dad, and who knows how many other people? This is the wand that killed Sirius!"  
_— Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ ,  J.K. Rowling

* * *

The trip to Diagon Alley with Hagrid quite literally warmed my soul. As we perused Flourish and Blotts in search of my new schoolbooks, it was easy to forget that this wasn't _my_ Hagrid and that he didn't know me yet. 

Flashes of the last time I saw _my_ Hagrid—tears streaming down his ruddy face into his bushy black beard, forced to hold Harry's lifeless body high for all to see—haunted my thoughts as we chatted genially over pistachio ice creams at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. However, cheerful conversation flowed easily between us, just as it always had, and I promised myself I would visit his hut soon and befriend him properly again.

_Again._

I sighed. That word—again—had been itching incessantly at my brain all day. How was I supposed to act like I didn't belong at Hogwarts already? _It was my home._ It had certainly been more of a home to me over the past seven years than my parents' house had become. I knew the hallways and corridors, the secret passageways, and even the exact schedule of the roaming staircases. It was going to be a real bitch to pretend like I didn't belong.

What would my year at Hogwarts be like without Harry or Ron constantly by my side? There had been times, when the three of us had argued, where we'd gone months without speaking, and truthfully, it had been terribly lonely. I knew it was a miracle I'd even made friends at all. I was quite aware of my status as a bossy little know-it-all, and very few can tolerate it. Now that my previous life, or rather, my _future_ , had essentially disappeared, was I damned to a lifetime of being alone?

And _how_ was I going to act like I didn't already know Remus and Sirius? I knew their darkest of secrets, the secrets they thought no one else would ever discover. Hell, I even knew how Professor Lupin took his tea.

_Professor Lupin_ , I smirked to myself. I better not let that one slip out.

And even more—how I was I meant to handle walking amongst the dead? Seeing them alive—happy and whole and _alive_ —was much more difficult than I ever could have imagined.

**_Alive._ **

Oh sweet Merlin, what about when the term began tomorrow?

Lily and James.

_I would get to meet Harry's parents._

But then I realized something even more alarming.

_Wormtail._

I would have to sit in class with the fucking traitorous rat and pretend like I didn't know every horrible thing that he did. Or, _will do_ , I corrected myself. He hasn't done anything yet.

_...yet._

So _would_ he become a Death Eater? Would he betray Lily and James to Voldemort? Would he betray _Harry?_ Was there something I could do to prevent it?

I pictured Sirius— _adult_ Sirius, _my_ Sirius—fresh from Azkaban, standing in the Shrieking Shack—his hair filthy and matted, his face terribly waxy and sallow, his teeth disgustingly yellow and rotting—his eyes crazed like Bellatrix's had been, prepared for murder.

" _THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED! Died rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you!"_

I shuddered at the memory and suppressed a sob.

_How am I meant to walk amongst the dead?_

I shook my head slightly and sighed again. Taking a sip of my tea, I stared absently across the kitchens at the bustling house elves. I told myself that I had simply decided to visit the kitchens this evening for a cup of tea, but honestly, I was avoiding running into Sirius or Remus. As Hagrid had escorted me back to the castle this afternoon, I caught a glimpse of the two of them lounging by the lake near the spot Dumbledore and I had occupied this morning.

Quite a strenuous internship indeed, Sirius.

But I'd decided then that until I discovered the best way to deal with the raging battle of emotions taking place inside my head, it would probably be best to avoid them altogether. So that's how I found myself, sitting alone at the Gryffindor table in the kitchens, and quite frankly, bored as hell. Maybe I should visit the library? A good book might be a worthy distraction. I desperately needed to research my situation, after all. Would there be any books on Time Travel in the Hogwarts Library? At least it would be very unlikely for me to run into Sirius there, I thought with a smirk, taking another sip of my tea.

"You've only been here one day, and you've already found your way to the kitchens? That took us a whole year, you know."

I jumped at the voice and sloshed tea down my front.

My wand was out instantly as I leapt to my feet. Whipping around, I pointed it at the newcomer. Why on earth had I sat with my back to the door?

_When did you become so stupid, Hermione? Did Mad-Eye teach you nothing?_

Mad-Eye's gruff voice roared _'Constant Vigilance'_ inside my head as I faced my opponent, my body neatly sliding into a proper dueling stance. However, I quickly deflated. The urge to fight left me, as once again, I found myself face-to-face with Sirius Black, his hands in the air, staring down the end of my wand.

"Sweet Merlin, woman. Remind me to stop sneaking up on you! I swear, faster than an insulted hippogriff…" but his voice faltered suddenly, his eyes narrowing.

I quickly paid the price for letting my guard down. His hand closed around my wrist and his wand was at my throat before I even knew what was happening. Slamming me backward against the table and trapping me in place with my wand arm above my head, he said in a stony whisper, "Where the _fuck_ did you get that wand?"

My eyes widened.

Oh, _shit_.

_He recognized Bellatrix's wand._

"What—what do you mean?" I managed to whimper. My teacup had shattered in the tussle, and warm tea was dripping down my back, soaking through my shirt.

His grip tightened painfully around my wrist.

"That wand in your hand—the etchings on the handle—it's an Ollivander wand, but a wand like that would only have chosen someone from the House of Black. It's only happened twice in the past fifty years—me, and my cousin Bellatrix. _That isn't your wand."_

I whimpered again.

"So Hermione," he ground out, jaw clenched. " _How the fuck did you get that wand?_ "

"Sirius—I—I can't tell you that. I'm sorry…" I stammered.

"Who the hell are you? A Death Eater? Of course you're a fucking Death Eater—appearing out of nowhere like that, like a goddamned angel—" he growled, his hand encircling my wrist even more tightly.

_A fucking Death Eater?_

Oh, no—no fucking way. He'd crossed a line. After all I've been through, after all I've _done_ , I absolutely refused to be accused of following Tom-fucking-Riddle. My eyes narrowed as I stared into his, my voice rising in anger.

"Get the fuck off of me, Sirius! I'm not a Death Eater!" I cried, temper blazing.

"Then why the hell do you have Bella's wand, Hermione?" he roared back. His face was uncomfortably close to mine. Drops of spit landed on my face as he shouted.

"It's not her wand! Just let go of me and I'll explain, okay? Just. Let. _Go!_ " I yelled, a shove punctuating every word as I attempted to push him away.

He finally let go of my wand arm, and seemed to realize he was quite literally lying on top of me as he pinned me to the table. He quickly backed away, but his wand was still raised, aimed for the spot directly between my eyes. I sat up slowly, rubbing my wrist where his hand had been. Well that'll certainly bruise. I raised my wand to cast a quick _Reparo_ on the broken teacup, but he advanced on me again, wand held aloft.

"Put your fucking wand down, Sirius, I'm just trying to mend the cup," I snapped at him, annoyed by the entire situation. I flicked my wrist and the shards of china reformed. Then, with a muttered " _Tergeo,"_ I siphoned the spilled tea from the table. I gestured to the now-dry spot beside me and said, "Come sit."

He eyed me suspiciously, but grudgingly obliged. He sat down next to me on top of the Gryffindor table with his elbows on his knees. I turned to face him, legs crossed. My anger diminished slightly as I looked at him. He had every right to be wary of me.

"There's a lot of things that I can't tell you right now, Sirius," I said softly, placing a hand on his arm. "But I just need you to trust me. It's not her wand. Well, it's not her wand anymore, because she still has _her_ wand—Goddamn it, this is difficult. Can you just take the fact that Professor Dumbledore trusts me as proof that I'm not lying to you?"

"It's not her wand anymore, because she still has her wand," he repeated flatly, determinedly looking down at the flagged stone floor of the kitchens.

"Er—yes? Look, I promise, one day soon I'll explain everything. But honestly, right now, I barely know you…" My voice broke off, and I heaved a defeated sigh. "I'm really sorry, Sirius."

He looked up and stared at me. "So—you're not a Death Eater?"

"God, no. I'm pretty much the furthest thing from a Death Eater one can be without being Dumbledore himself," I replied with a small laugh.

He finally nodded slowly. "All right, I'll let this go," he conceded. "But only for now. I want answers soon, Hermione."

I nodded in return, and said quietly, "And I'll do my best to give them to you."

He slid suddenly off of the tabletop and on to the bench below. "So, how about some treacle tart?"

I blinked down at him. "Er—what?"

"Treacle tart. My favorite pudding. That's the whole reason I'm down here?" he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Oh. Of course his favorite is treacle tart.

Just like Harry.

I wondered if it was James's favorite too? It seemed silly, but vowed to find out.

I smiled. "Sure."

Five minutes and a visit from Mipsy later, we were both digging in.

"The Hogwarts house elves make the best damn treacle tart I've ever tasted," he said, his mouth full of pudding. He swallowed, and then added "Except for maybe my mum's. You like it?"

His mum? Surely he didn't mean Walburga Black? I pictured the woman depicted in the horrible portrait hanging in the hallway of Grimmauld Place. I mentally dressed her in flowery apron, and imagined her standing in front of the oven in her dank, dusty kitchen, baking delicious treats with Kreacher. I stifled a laugh. However, I decided not to question him about it now. I wasn't meant to know anything about his family yet, after all.

"Love it," I said, taking another bite. After that, we were both silent for a while as we ate.

"So—er—one more thing, Sirius," I blurted out suddenly, and he looked up from his bowl. "How many people might recognize this wand? I knew I should have stopped by Ollivander's today and gotten a new one, but this one has just finally started to feel like my own..."

Suspicion flitted across his face once more, but thankfully, he chose not to interrogate me further. "Here at Hogwarts? Only me and my brother Regulus. But he's a sixth year and in Slytherin, so I doubt you'll run into him very often."

… _R.A.B._

_I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more._

Of course, Regulus will be here at Hogwarts as well. When did Kreacher visit the cave with Voldemort? I was silent, toying with my spoon as I wracked my brains trying to remember. Didn't the tapestry in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place say he died sometime in 1979? Was it before or after he finished Hogwarts?

"Hermione?"

I looked up to find Sirius staring at me again. "Hmm?" I responded blankly.

"I asked what year you'll be in?"

Oh.

"Er, sorry. I'll be in seventh year. Like you and Remus, right?" I asked, paying attention once again.

He nodded, sweeping his long hair from his eyes. "Yep, and my other two best mates, James and Peter. You'll meet them tomorrow night at the start-of-term banquet." He eyed me up and down for a moment before asking, "So how are you feeling tonight? You're looking a hell of a lot better than you did when I found you."

"Er—yeah, I'm feeling fine. Much better, actually," I said, hoping he'd leave the conversation alone.

I was wrong.

"So, how did you wind up in the Great Hall like that? _Looking_ like that? If you don't mind me asking." He paused, then added, "Unless it's one of those things that you can't tell me yet…" He sounded a little bitter at my secrecy.

I bit my lip so hard, I drew blood. What could I possibly tell him that would make sense?

_Lie, Hermione. Just fucking lie._

Guiltily, I answered with a shrug, "It's not really a secret, I guess. I had a bit of a bad encounter with a Portkey—rough trip, you know. I was traveling all the way from America, so things didn't quite go as planned. I was supposed to end up in the Headmaster's Office, but for some reason, I landed in the Great Hall instead."

His eyebrows contracted in confusion. "From America?"

"Yeah, from America," I repeated. "I attended Ilvermorny for my first six years of school."

_God, this little story is going to make the wand situation so much more complicated._

"Ilvermorny? Huh… very interesting. But you're British, right? I mean, your accent…" 

"I'm originally from England, yes, but my mother and I moved to America when I was younger. She recently…" I stopped, choking a little on the words. The emotions were still very real to me, despite the lie—my own mother was essentially dead to me now. "She died last month. But my father lives in Britain, here in Scotland, actually. So that's why I'm back."

He reached across the tabled and placed his hand on top of mine in a comforting sort of gesture. The palm of his hand felt pleasantly warm against my skin. "I'm really sorry, Hermione. That's got to be horrible to deal with, especially being in a new place and all. But at least you have your dad, right?"

"Yeah, I'm glad I have him here. My dad and I have never been very close, though," I replied. _Might as well make the lie believable_. "I would only visit for a month or so every year, but hopefully now that I've returned, we'll have the chance to get to know each other properly."

He smiled kindly as he withdrew his hand, the corners of his eyes crinkling, just as _my_ Sirius's had. "Well, if it helps, I'm glad you're here." His smile then became a bit more devious. "You're definitely keeping shit interesting so far. Do you know what house you'll be in yet?"

I sighed. This was a point of contention between me and Dumbledore. I was to be sorted before the start-of-term banquet along with the other new students. Personally, I thought I would look bloody ridiculous standing among all of the first years, and I'd requested to have a private sorting in the Headmaster's Office. But apparently, Dumbledore thought this might give off the wrong idea of favoritism.

"No, not yet," I frowned, shaking my head. "The school houses at Ilvermorny don't exactly line up with those at Hogwarts, and apparently, I'm to be sorted tomorrow evening at the feast with the first years. But I've read _Hogwarts, A History_ , so I know all about the four houses."

"Well do you know which one you'd _like_ to be in, given the choice?" he asked and, unless I was mistaken, there was a hint of hopefulness in his voice.

This was an opportunity I simply could not miss. I drew myself up, channeling my best Draco Malfoy impression, before responding, "Slytherin, of course! It really seems like the best house, don't you agree?" I capped it off with a haughty smirk for good measure.

He gaped at me, spluttering. "You—uh—Slytherin? The best house… _what?_ I thought you said you were all right!"

I collapsed against the table in a fit of giggles as he continued to look at me as if I had just announced that I'd decided to run off to Greenland in search of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.

"Your face!" I gasped, still laughing.

He continued to stare, utterly confused.

"Sorry, sorry! I'm only joking! Gryffindor," I said as I attempted to compose myself. "I think I'd like to be in Gryffindor."

His face relaxed and he literally sighed in relief. "Bloody fucking hell, woman, that's not the sort of thing you joke about."

Still giggling slightly, I shrugged. "It seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up," I replied simply.

He started laughing too, his eyes dancing beautifully. "Oh I really hope you do end up in Gryffindor. James and Peter will fucking _love_ you."

_I sure hope so, Sirius. I really fucking hope so._

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N) So we're almost to the start of term! Many more characters will be introduced soon, so I thought I'd take this chance for S/H to have a little one-on-one time. What do you think? Is there anything specific you'd like to see in the upcoming chapters? Anything you don't? I'd love to know! And as always, thanks for reading :)  
> -liz


	6. Bits of Spellotape

* * *

**Chapter 6: Bits of Spellotape**

* * *

Ron was having far worse problems. He had patched up his wand with some borrowed Spellotape, but it seemed to be damaged beyond repair. It kept crackling and sparking at odd moments, and every time Ron tried to transfigure his beetle it engulfed him in thick gray smoke that smelled of rotten eggs. Unable to see what he was doing, Ron accidentally squashed his beetle with his elbow and had to ask for a new one. Professor McGonagall wasn't pleased.  
_— Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets,_ J.K. Rowling

* * *

I awoke before dawn on the morning of the First of September drenched in a cold sweat, my sheets tangled tightly around me. I'd decided against taking the Dreamless Sleep Potion last night, preferring not to take it too often due to its addictive nature. I deeply regretted that decision now. Panting, I tried to recall my nightmare.

Scenes of horror burst across my mind in some sort of perverse order.

_Bellatrix cackling with unadulterated glee as she dueled the three of us, watching us dance before her as we dodged her curses. Suddenly, Luna was gone. Sweet, innocent Luna—she didn't deserve this. Then Ginny fell. Ginny—my sister, the only girl I'd ever gotten on with, the only person to ever truly understand my emotions._

_Harry's body—broken and defiled by dark magic—the pale skin of his corpse contrasting starkly with the green grass of the Hogwarts lawns, his eyes empty._

_Ron staring hopefully down at me, his eyes full of love and something close to adoration—one moment with his hands gripping my waist, holding me securely against his body—the next, the green light of the Unforgivable, his body falling lifelessly to the ground._

Everyone I loved was _gone_.

Shivering violently, I wrapped my arms tightly around myself as if to stop my body from falling apart. I was almost certain there was a gaping hole in my chest, my heart and lungs on the verge of spilling out. I felt utterly **_broken_** —as if I were being held together by bits of Spellotape, ready to shatter to pieces at the slightest rustle of a breeze. My breath was coming out in rattling gasps. My stomach was writhing more than the insides of a Snargaluff pod. I gazed up to the high, vaulted ceilings of my guest quarters, willing the traitorous tears to stop streaming down my face.

_Goddamn it, Hermione. Pull yourself together._

**This** is your life now. **That** future no longer exists.

But far from comforting me, that thought caused me to cry even harder. I buried my face into my pillow, screams escaping from my throat as I sobbed without abandon, allowing the grief to flow unchecked from my body.

_It felt so good to let go._

When it finally seemed I had mourned enough, as if I had shed all of the tears my body held, the sobs suddenly stopped. Still breathing heavily, I sat up slowly, rubbing the remaining tears from my swollen eyes. I silently thanked God that this insane meltdown hadn't occurred yesterday morning while I was still in the hospital wing. That certainly would've given Remus and Sirius a reason to think I'm barking. I slid out of the large four-poster bed, my socked feet hitting the cold floor. I glanced around Dumbledore's personal guest quarters, which he had graciously offered to me for the night, and my eyes landed upon my newly purchased school trunk.

Well, I might as well dress and start my bloody day now, I thought with a grimace. Today, I have the unexpected pleasure of learning how to be a seventh year student at Hogwarts in 19-fucking-77.

* * *

I stood alone in a small chamber off the Entrance Hall, fidgeting restlessly with the sleeve of my new school robes, waiting. The torches lining the stoned walls cast an eerie glow about the empty room that did little to settle my nerves. The clamor of hundreds of students chatting happily amongst themselves could be heard through the closed door that led to the rest of the castle, and I knew that it wouldn't be much longer before Professor McGonagall arrived with the new first years.

I glanced down at the watch on my wrist to check the time. It was a large wizards' watch— _Harry's watch._ It was the watch Mrs. Weasley gave him for his seventeenth birthday. It was a family watch that had once belonged to her late brother, Fabian Prewett _._ I discovered it within the seemingly endless depths of my little beaded bag this afternoon as I was preparing for the feast, and I couldn't help but fasten it around my wrist. It felt comforting to have a bit of both Harry and the Weasleys with me today. Not only was it a reminder of the family I had lost, but it also represented everything I might be able to change.

The door to the chamber suddenly swung open, and McGonagall entered briskly, the group of new first years trailing nervously behind her. As they entered the room, many of the pupils shot me strange looks, as if silently asking, _"Who the hell are you?"_ Yep, I thought with a sigh, I'm going to look bloody ridiculous up there.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Good, you've already arrived," Professor McGonagall said to me from across the chamber, speaking over the heads of the many eleven-year-olds. She looked just as I had known her, albeit slightly younger and her face less lined. Her black hair was pulled back into her usual severe bun, and she was wearing robes of deep scarlet. I smiled at her unabashed display of Gryffindor house pride. She then looked down slightly, and began to address the rest of the room.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin momentarily, but before you can be seated with the rest of the school, you must be sorted into your respective houses," she paused as there was a collective intake of breath from the new students. "The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin—"

_Sweet Merlin Professor McGonagall, have you ever changed your speech throughout the years? No variety whatsoever?_

I began to zone out as she continued, my eyes scanning the room. God, Ron _was_ right during our fifth year. The first years were tiny little things, and I don't remember being quite that twitchy when I was eleven. There were definitely many more of them than there had been in 1991. I supposed that many of the wizarding population must had postponed having children during the First War, making my entrance class much smaller than was the norm. Well, except for Mr. and Mrs. Wealsey.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place shortly in the Great Hall in front of the rest of the school," Professor McGonagall concluded. She glanced around the room, eyeing a few disheveled students carefully. "I suggest you all _smarten yourselves up_ as much as possible while you wait. I shall return when we are ready for you."

As Professor McGonagall left the room, I heaved a sigh and crossed my arms across my chest, leaning back against the wall behind me. A steady roar of muttering had broken out among the students.

"—some sort of test—"

"—no idea what it is, me da wouldn't tell me—"

"—yeah, I heard you have to fight a bloody troll!—"

I smiled as I remembered my own sorting. Well, my original sorting, I corrected myself. As a Muggle-born student, completely new to the hidden world of magic, I had been absolutely petrified. As usually occurs when I'm nervous, I had begun rapidly listing everything I thought I knew about the situation. With a grimace, I recalled how I'd spouted off every single spell I'd read in the _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_ to a thoroughly uninterested Sally-Anne Perks, who had been unfortunate enough to stand beside me.

Inspiration suddenly striking, I leaned forward and whispered into the ear of the first year nearest to me, "You know, I heard all you have to do is sit on a stool and put a _hat_ on your head."

The tiny first year boy started at being addressed, his eyes widening. _"Really?"_

I smiled and nodded. "Yep, really. At least, that's what I heard." I put a finger to my lips as McGonagall reentered the chamber, quieting the boy's excited questions.

"Form a line, please," she said, tone characteristically stern. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin."

I queued along with the other students, bring up the rear. I attempted to flatten my bushy curls as we made our way out of the side chamber and toward the Great Hall. The pair of great double doors were opened, and the first years began to file inside. I followed the last of them in.

My eyes became unfocused as I entered the Great Hall.

_There had been a battle here._

All I saw was bodies—the corpses of those I loved dearly lying in rows. I raised my eyes to the long table at the front of the hall where the teachers should be, but instead, I only saw **_him_.**

**Voldemort.**

He was reclining slightly in the grand, high-backed chair that was usually occupied by the Headmaster, the Elder Wand held lazily in his long, spider-like fingers.

Red eyes gleaming. Cat-like pupils contracted. Slitted nostrils flaring.

His lipless mouth was curled into a sneer.

I blinked once, and the scene was gone. The Great Hall before me was just as it had been on the night I was sorted as an eleven-year-old. Students were sitting along each of the house tables, watching the first years line up at the front of the hall. Dumbledore was sitting at the very center of the High Table, right where he should be. He caught my eye and gave a tiny nod of reassurance. Hagrid beamed down at me, giving me a small wave of recognition with his dustbin lid-sized hands.

I quickened my pace to catch up with the other students. I forced out deep, calming breaths through my nose in an effort to compose myself, praying that no one else in the room had noticed my peculiar behavior. I joined the other new students as they faced the rest of the school, and watched as McGonagall placed a four-legged stool and a very familiar patched and dirty wizard's hat in front of us.

Just as I knew it would, the rip at the brim of the hat opened wide, and the Sorting Hat began its song. It was remarkably similar to the song it sang in my fifth year—advice to unite from within, be wary of outside foes. I wondered whether the songs of recent years had been similar, because it seemed no one within the hall was surprised by the Hat's warnings. As the song concluded, the hall burst into applause, the Sorting Hat twitching in acknowledgement. I glanced around the Great Hall as Professor McGonagall began calling names from her long roll of parchment, and noticed hundreds of eyes fixed upon me—scrutinizing, questioning.

_I don't belong here._

I quickly averted my gaze to the Gryffindor table, searching for a friendly face. I spotted Sirius and Remus sitting near the front. Remus flashed me an encouraging smile, and Sirius gave me a thumbs up as he grinned. Relief flooded through me.

_Alive. They're alive._

_I'm not alone._

As I stood watching " _Angleby, Iliana"_  sorted into Ravenclaw, doubt began to creep into my mind. What if I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor again? The Sorting Hat had seriously considered putting me in Ravenclaw during my first sorting, and for good reason. I had many qualities that would flourish in Ravenclaw house. But after all I've endured over the last seven years, didn't I _belong_ in Gryffindor? Didn't hunting down fragments of Voldemort's soul count as an act of great courage? And honestly, wasn't this whole bloody trip to the past a test of bravery? I looked up to the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall as " _Burke, Leonia"_ was sorted into Slytherin. Well, I thought as I watched the candles floating along above me, at least there's little to no chance of me ending up in Slytherin.

_That's right, Hermione, always a silver lining._

" _Fox, Emory"_ joined the Hufflepuff table, and I knew it would soon be my turn. I looked down and smoothed the front of my robes, begging my heart to cease its violent tattoo against the inside of my chest.

" _Granger, Hermione!"_ Professor McGonagall called out, looking up from her long scroll and catching my eye. A steady hiss of whispers broke out across the entirety of the hall.

"—who _is_ she?—"

"—definitely no first year—"

"—what happened to her face?—"

McGonagall gave me a slight nod, and I took a steadying breath. Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I began the walk forward to the stool, my head held high and shoulders thrust back. If the whole goddamned school was going to whisper about me, I might as well look decent while they did it.

_Now I know how Harry felt,_ I thought wryly.

I was almost to the stool when I stumbled slightly over a crack in the stone floor. Righting myself quickly, I sat down hastily upon the short stool, thrusting the worn pointed hat onto my head to hide the flush creeping up my cheeks. The murmurs of the Great Hall were silenced instantly as the hat slipped over my ears and I stared forward at its black insides.

"Oh-ho, Miss Granger! Or, should I say, Miss Granger-Dumbledore, now," the small voice of the Sorting Hat said in my ear. "I see that this isn't the first time we've met. A time traveler, I take it? You aren't the first, nor will you be the last, I imagine. Very interesting, very interesting, indeed…"

I ignored the comment regarding other travelers. _Just go ahead and shout out Gryffindor,_ I thought, _we both know ir's where I belong._

"Oh? But is it? I see it's where I placed you before. I'm sure it was right for you then—but is Gryffindor where you belong now? Hmm…" the sorting hat hummed thoughtfully. "You've got brains, that's for sure. I very nearly decided upon Ravenclaw in your future, I see, and no doubt a brilliant mind like yours might _seem_ to belong there. Unwavering loyalty as well—a very Hufflepuff quality. Your friend Harry was very lucky to have you. But no, neither of those are quite the right fit…"

_Well we both know it's certainly not going to be Slytherin,_ I thought, almost laughing aloud.

"Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure?" the hat questioned. "I seeing unmatchable cunning inside your head, Miss Granger. You've done some dark deeds in your past as well, very dark, indeed. This is the sort of mind that _belongs_ in Slytherin—how can I pass up a perfect sorting such as this?"

Panic coursed throughout my body, my muscles tensing, fists clenching.

_Are you fucking kidding me?_ I thought angrily to the hat. _I'm a Gryffindor! There's no where else I belong. Those "dark deeds" you speak of were only done out of necessity—it took extraordinary courage to do what I did! They'll eat me alive in Slytherin…_ I paused, then added, _I swear to God, Merlin, and Morgana, put me in Slytherin, and I'll nick you from Dumbledore's study and light you on bloody fire. I'm quite proficient at these lovely little bluebell flames…_

If a hat could blanch, the Sorting Hat would have done so at that moment. "Very well, very well, Miss Granger," said the hat hastily. "There's no need for violence. If you're sure—"

_I'm very, very sure,_ I thought with determination.

**"GRYFFINDOR!"** the hat cried loudly so the entire hall could hear. Cheers and applause broke out from the Gryffindor table. Undoubtedly, the whole house was excited to get the _interesting_ new student. As I removed the hat and placed it back upon the stool, I could have sworn I heard it mutter under its breath, _"Bloody fucking Gryffindors…"_

I quickly made my way to the Gryffindor table, wondering as I walked where the hell the Sorting Hat learned such colorful language? Didn't it spend all of its time on a shelf behind Dumbledore's desk? I pictured the Headmaster letting a swear slip, and almost giggled. I gazed down the long table, searching for an open place to sit. Remus caught my eye, and both he and Sirius budged up to make room. My face still pink, I slid in between them, taking my seat at the Gryffindor table.

_Finally—I'm home._

"What the hell took so long, Hermione?" Sirius breathed in my ear as I settled into my seat. "You were up there for nearly ten minutes!"

My blush intensifying, I shrugged in response, turning to whisper back, "The hat and I were just having a little chat. It thought that the Falmouth Falcons were going to go all the way this year, you see…"

Sirius barked out a laugh, before grasping my shoulder and giving me a quick embrace. "Well congratulations! I knew you'd be in Gryffindor…"

The table fell silent again as the next student— _Greengrass, Milton_ —placed the Sorting Hat on his head. Remus gripped my hand for a moment beneath the table and said under his breath, "I'm glad you're in Gryffindor too, Hermione."

The flush made its way up my neck once again as I squeezed his hand in thanks, muttering a quick, "Me too," before we both let go.

_Maybe I had more than just bits of Spellotape keeping me whole here._

The sorting finally ended. Rather than Professor McGonagall retrieving the hat as she had after my original sorting, the caretaker Argus Filch lumbered forward. Looking almost exactly as he had in 1998, he fetched the Sorting Hat and stool, and then shuffled away with his cat Mrs. Norris trailing behind him. Professor Dumbledore stood to address the hall, his arms held out widely in greeting.

"Welcome students, both those that are new and those that are seasoned, to another year of magical education at Hogwarts. Let's not keep you from the delicious feast any longer." With a snap of his long fingers, the long-awaited food appeared on the empty dishes before us. "Shall we tuck in?" He then sat, throwing his long beard over his shoulder and adding food to his plate.

I loaded my own plate with everything from roast chicken to steak and kidney pie, and began to eat. I still hadn't quite grown accustomed to three meals a day yet, and I had to remind myself to slow down as I noticed that I was eating with an almost Ron Weasley-like gusto. I'd realized throughout our many years of friendship that Ron's eating habits mostly stemmed from growing up with six siblings. He'd learned that if he wanted his favorite foods, he had to eat them quickly, before anyone else could. I could hardly fault him for it, but thankfully, he'd managed to become a bit more polite as he'd gotten older. I set my fork down for a moment, and glanced around the table at the other students sitting near us. As I laid eyes on the person sitting across from me, I let out a small gasp.

_James Potter_.

He looked remarkably like Harry had at seventeen, and I felt my heart contract painfully as I stared at him. I could easily spot the differences, however. Seven years of being Harry's best friend meant that I had his face perfectly memorized. There was the obvious difference in eye color—James's being hazel while Harry's eyes were a bright emerald green—but there were other, more subtle differences as well. James's nose was slightly longer than Harry's, his eyebrows a bit thicker, and his face a little less narrow than Harry's had been. The shared untidy black hair was present in full force, and James also wore glasses, although his were a bit larger and the frames more square.

James grinned at me from across the table with obnoxiously straight, white teeth, before glancing to Sirius and asking, "So Pads, going to introduce us to your friend?"

Sirius was looking from me, to James, and then back again, a strange look on his face as he noticed my odd expression. I managed to close my gaping mouth, and reached my hand across the table, holding it out to James. "Hi, I'm Hermione Granger, as you and the rest of the hall were just informed. And you?"

James burst out laughing as he grasped my hand and shook it. "James Potter. I apologize for the mutt sitting beside you. He's never been house-trained—terrible manners."

I, too, joined in with his laughter, understanding the true meaning behind the joke, even though they didn't know it. Sirius scowled at his friend before turning back to me. "Hermione, these are my other two best mates I told you about. Dickhead," he said, gesturing unnecessarily to James. "And this is Peter."

I looked to the right of James, and if he hadn't been introduced as such, I never would have guessed that the boy sitting there was _Wormtail_. He looked nothing like the sniveling, watery-eyed rat of a man I'd encountered at fourteen in the Shrieking Shack.

Seventeen-year-old Peter Pettigrew reminded me a little of Neville Longbottom. His face was slightly round, but cheerful, with a hint of pink on each cheek. His grin reached all the way to his eyes, which were a lovely deep shade of blue. He had wavy, mousy brown hair that was swept to the side, in a manner that said _I definitely tried hard to make it look this careless._ He appeared to be much shorter than his three friends, but he was nowhere near as fat as I was led to believe. He was a little pudgy, but in a way that seemed to suit him. Overall, he was rather attractive. He might not be considered as good-looking as his best mates, but truthfully, they were an unfair standard to judge by.

I'd thought that whenever I first met the young-Wormtail, I would feel nothing but pure hatred. I was wrong. I was, well—I was sad. I pitied the poor boy for what I knew he might become.

The word _might_ echoed within my brain.

He hasn't done anything _yet._

I sat up a little from the bench, leaning across the table with my hand outstretched. "Nice to meet you, Peter."

Peter grinned back as he shook my hand as well, and answered, "You too, Hermione." He then returned his attention to his plate, resuming his meal. Well, apparently he wasn't the talkative sort.

"Dick- _Head Boy_ , now," James smirked, and I noticed the badge gleaming on his chest, pinned to his school robes along with another red and gold badge that read _Quidditch Captain_. I almost gaped at him again. Didn't Remus say during the party at Grimmauld Place that _he_ was the prefect of the group? I could understand Remus not being awarded the Head Boy position—he had enough to be getting on with, after all. But weren't James and Sirius once described as being forerunners of the Weasley twins? Who in their right mind would make James Head Boy?

—Dumbledore. Dumbledore absolutely would.

"Yeah, so I've been told about a thousand times already this summer," said Sirius as he rolled his eyes. "How did our precious Lily-Flower take it when you showed up in the Prefects' Carriage this morning?"

"Don't call her that!" James snapped at Sirius, and Sirius howled with laughter. "She, er, was just a bit—surprised. Wasn't exactly expecting it."

Oh _,_ I understand now. Dumbledore was playing _matchmaker._ My new Uncle Albus may be a manipulative old coot sometimes, but at least he had a kind heart.

"Neither were we, mate. Neither were we. I reckon Dumbledore's really off his rocker now, making you Head Boy," said Sirius, toasting his glass of pumpkin juice to James. Remus and Peter laughed as James shot Sirius a rude hand gesture. James then turned to me in an obvious effort to change the topic of conversation.

"So Hermione, what brings you to Hogwarts? I don't think we've ever gotten a transfer as a seventh year before," he said as he scooped a bit of apple crumble and a slice of treacle tart onto his plate.

Hmm, so maybe it's only _one_ of his favorites.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sirius shooting James a look that clearly said _"abort, abort now!"_ while giving his head an almost imperceptible jerk. Evidently he was worried I wouldn't want to discuss my mum's death. How kind of him.

"Well, I attended school in America for my first six years, but I recently had to move back here to Hogsmeade to live with my dad," I said with the same guilty shrug as I had given Sirius the day before.

God, I _hated_ lying.

James's eyebrows contracted questioningly. "Hogsmeade? Is your dad a wizard? I don't think I've heard of any wizards with the surname Granger before."

Ah, so we've finally reached it.

_Might as well get it over with, Hermione. You're meant to be spreading the false story, are you not?_

"Not true, mate. There's Hector Dagworth-Granger who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers," Peter interjected fairly.

"Well, as far as I know, Hector and I aren't related," I said with a small laugh. _Is there honestly only one other well-known Granger in the wizarding world?_ "Yes, my dad is a wizard. But I have my mum's surname, and she was a Muggle." I cast my eyes downward, picking at my food, before adding, "My father is a Dumbledore."

There was nothing but silence in response to this revelation. I dreaded seeing their reactions, but I forced myself to look up. All four wizards were staring at me, mouths open in shock. Peter's lips were moving silently, as if trying to form a question, but not quite succeeding.

Remus was the first to recover enough to ask, "Dumbledore? As in... _Albus_ Dumbledore? The _Headmaster_?"

"Er—yeah, he's my uncle,"I answered. "My dad is his brother, Aberforth. Apparently my mum had a thing for beards back in her day." I attempted nonchalance with another shrug.

I turned to look at Sirius, and I could tell he was feeling guilty over his previous remark regarding Dumbledore's debatable sanity. Not wanting to make a big deal of it, I leaned over and mock-whispered in his ear, loud enough for all four Marauders to hear, "But don't worry, I don't think Uncle Al's barminess runs in the family. His brilliance though— _that_ I certainly inherited."

Sirius's face relaxed and he started laughing, as did the other three. "I was right, always keeping shit interesting. A fucking Dumbledore…" he said, shaking his head. "You certainly left out that part yesterday."

I shrugged for a third time, giving him a little half-smile. "Didn't think it was that important, honestly."

Before any of them could respond, Dumbledore—oh, excuse me, _Uncle Albus—_ stood, raising his hands to silence the room as he began to give the start-of-term notices. I turned my attention to the front of the hall, but I noticed all four wizards continuing to shake their heads in disbelief.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So what do you think? We finally have a couple more characters introduced, and there will be more to come over the next few chapters. Anyone in particular you'd like to see? Any specific situations you'd like the story to include? Please comment and let me know, along with what you think of this chapter!
> 
> -liz


	7. Just Because There's a Keeper

* * *

**Chapter 7: Just Because There's a Keeper**

* * *

"You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble?"  
—Albus P.W.B Dumbledore,  _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,_ J.K. Rowling

* * *

"Good evening to you all! While I am certain you must be quite done in after that delectable feast, I beg your attention for only a short while longer for the usual notices."

Uncharacteristically, I barely listened as Dumbledore addressed the school. I knew what his start-of-term notices entailed—no magic in the corridors, forthcoming Quidditch trials, the Forest was forbidden for a very good reason, so on and so forth. I felt exhausted, my body heavy and sore. I was very ready for the pain potion I knew would be waiting for me in the Gryffindor dormitory.

"—for what Mr. Filch tells me is the two hundred and seventy-second time. And finally, I am sorry to say Professor Espenshade will not be joining us again this year, as he is still recovering in St. Mungos after the unfortunate accident of last term. However, I am pleased to welcome Professor Prewett, who will be taking over Defense Against the Dark Arts."

**— _what?_**

I examined the staff table closely as raucous applause and cheers broke out across the hall. Sitting next to Professor Flitwick was an apparently extremely well-liked red-haired young man. A tall, broad-shouldered redhead that looked remarkably similar to Charlie Weasley, but had Ron's long nose.

What was it that I'd overheard Mad-Eye telling Harry at Grimmauld Place?

— _Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian, they fought like heroes—_

Fought like heroes.

The gold watch on my wrist seemed to grow heavier as the new professor stood, grinning at his enthusiastic reception. 

Oh, dear God, can't I ever catch a break? Which brother was this? Fabian or Gideon? Why had it never been mentioned to me that one of Mrs. Weasley's brothers had taught at Hogwarts?

"That's one of the Prewett twins," Sirius leaned over and whispered, his breath hot on my ear. "No clue which one though. They were on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and it was always a bitch to tell them apart. Finished Hogwarts three years ago—both of them are Aurors now, so I've heard. You know what Aurors are, right?"

I simply nodded in response. I didn't think I could form words properly yet. One of Ron's uncles teaching here at Hogwarts? I wasn't sure how I'd possibly be able to cope with it. I just keep adding more of the dead to my list, don't I?

"So lads, how long do you think this one will last?" James asked in an undertone, leaning forward conspiratorially across the table. "My money's on the full year. Those twins could take a Bludger hit better than anyone I've ever seen. But I'll get the books started, shall I?"

"James, you're Head Boy now," said Remus exasperatedly. "Let Padfoot handle the gambling this year, yeah?" James shrugged in a manner I supposed meant that he'd consider it, and Sirius snorted.

Dumbledore concluded the feast by conducting a rousing version of the Hogwarts school song, just as he had my first year. The Marauders attempted their own version of something like a barbershop quartet, and truthfully, it was rather good. I simply hummed along under my breath.

When everyone had finished the catchy tune at their own pace, there was a great scraping of wood on stone as the benches were pushed back, signaling it was time to head to our dormitories. I was more than ready to leave. My heart felt immeasurably heavy. This was just too much—the Sorting, our new professor, just _being_ in the Great Hall. I needed to escape. I stood and quickly made my way out the doors of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. I didn't look behind me once, almost breaking into a full run in my haste. I just needed to _go._

"Hey Hermione, wait!" someone shouted behind me. "Oi, Granger!"

Oh, _for fucks sake_ , really?

I strongly considered ducking behind the nearest tapestry of Wilfred the Woeful and his gaggle of wistful witches and into a small passageway I knew lay behind it, but ultimately, I decided it would look rather strange. I slowed my pace and turned around. James was hurrying up the corridor, and to my great surprise, he was closely followed by _Lily Potter_.

Or, actually, she's still Lily _Evans_ now, I reminded myself. From what I could tell, she and James weren't even dating yet, much less married. After so many years of hearing the names _Lily and James Potter_ uttered with a reverence bordering on sainthood, it would be difficult to think of her any other way.

"Where are you sprinting off to?" said James as he caught up with me. "You don't even know the way to the common room yet!"

Oh, damn. I'm supposed to be a new student. Right.

Thinking quickly, I gave one of my apparently newly-trademarked shrugs and said the first reasonable excuse that popped into my head. "Uncle Al gave me a tour of the castle yesterday, so I thought I'd see if I could make it there on my own."

I noticed Lily's eyebrows contract at the words _Uncle Al_.

"Oh, I was just worried you'd get lost," replied James. "I figured I'd try to catch you before you ended up at the top of the Astronomy Tower or something." He must have noticed that my eyes were gazing straight past him, because he then turned around, looking almost as surprised as me to find Lily standing behind him.

"Uh, Evans? What are you doing here?" said James with a perplexed look on his face.

"Well we're both head students, right?" said Lily, straightening her robes. "I wanted to know where you were running off too. Usually when you disappear in a rush, it's never anything good. But I'm glad I followed you—our new student needs escorting to the girls' dormitories," she finished, holding out her hand to me. "Hi, I'm Lily Evans."

Being introduced to Lily Evans felt a bit like being introduced to the Muggle Pope or the Minister for Magic. She was breathtakingly beautiful, but there was an air about her that said she had no idea. It was as if she had once been awkward and gangly, but had never been told she'd grown out of it. She had long auburn waves that reached her waist and a heart-shaped face with a smattering of freckles across her nose. I fully understood now why people constantly reminded Harry that he had his mother's eyes—staring into Lily's brilliantly green almond-shaped eyes almost made me feel as if I had Harry back again.

Thankfully, I managed to refrain from gawking at her as I'd done when meeting James. I smiled as I shook her hand. "Nice to meet you, Lily. I'm Hermione Granger. I'm actually glad you're here—I _do_ need to be shown to the seventh year dormitories."

She walked forward without sparing James another glance, and locked arms with me. It seemed Lily wasn't the type to give a fuck about other's personal space, even those she'd only just met. "Oh, you're a seventh year too? Let's go then, shall we?"

As we began walking up the corridor toward the staircase to the seventh floor, I looked over my shoulder and called back to James, "Thanks for finding me. I'll see you around!"

He was still standing on the spot where we'd left him, looking utterly flabbergasted at what had just occurred.

* * *

"Password?" said the Fat Lady in a tired sort of voice as we approached the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Mulled mead," said Lily, and the portrait swung open, revealing the round hole in the wall behind it. We both climbed through, and Lily, apparently noticing the quizzical look on my face, said quietly, "It seems the Fat Lady had a grand ol' holiday. One of the old warlocks from a portrait on the second floor told me she hasn't had a full day sober since term let out in June." 

I giggled a little, and she added, "I asked Dumbledore if we could change it to something more appropriate, but he seemed to find it amusing."

"Yeah, that sounds like Uncle Al," I replied as I glanced around the Common Room. The familiarity of the room was comforting. It was almost deserted, with only a few students lingering before heading up to bed.

"Uncle Al?" Lily questioned as we walked across the Common Room to the stairs leading to the girls' dormitories. "So, Professor Dumbledore is your uncle?"

I nodded as we began to climb the spiral staircase. "Yep, my dad is his brother, but I have my Muggle mother's surname. I moved with her to America when I was eleven, and I've only just returned."

Lily's eyes lit up at this. "Oh, so you're a half-blood? I'm Muggle-born! It'll be so great to have someone else around that actually understands what I'm talking about when it comes to Muggle things."

Oh, how I desperately wished I could tell her that I was actually a Muggle-born too, but I just nodded my head again in agreement. "Absolutely! You'd think the pure-bloods would take Muggle Studies and learn a thing or two, but most of them couldn't be bothered. My best friend was a pure-blood, and—" I broke off. Talking about Ron was just too painful.

Lily seemed to notice my melancholy, and grabbed my hand, halting our progress up the stairs. "You must really miss your friends back in America, don't you? I can't imagine starting a new school as a seventh year. But I promise, you'll make some really great friends here at Hogwarts." She paused, giving my hand a squeeze. "Including me, if you'd like."

Tears pricked at my eyes as I looked at Harry's mother, touched by her unwarranted kindness. "I'd love that, really. Thank you," I answered quietly, my voice slightly choked.

She smiled kindly, and pulled my hand as we continued up the spiral staircase. "So you must have attended Ilvermorny, right? I've read all about it in the _Encyclopedia of Magical Education in Europe and Abroad,_ but I'd love to hear what it's actually like sometime."

"Of course!" I replied, thankful I'd read about it as well. I hoped I could spin decent fabrications of life at a school I'd never attended. We reached the top of the staircase and found the door with the golden plaque reading _'_ _Seventh Years.'_ Lily released my hand and pushed it open. The dormitory was just as I remembered it, but instead of Parvati and Lavender, there were three other seventh year girls occupying the room. Two of the girls were lounging on the bed closest to the door, _Witch Weekly_ open in front of them, while another was standing on top of her bed, tacking a poster of the Puddlemere United Quidditch team to the wall above it. Witches and wizards in mud-brown robes zoomed across the poster, tossing the scarlet Quaffle back and forth to one another.

All three girls looked over to us as we entered. Lily pushed me forward slightly, as if presenting me to the room. "Hermione, this is Mary McDonald," she said, gesturing to one of the brunettes on the bed. She had a rather plain face, but her eyes were kind and her chocolate-colored hair shone sleekly in the light cast by the oil lamps on the bedside tables. She waved to me from her spot on the four-poster.

Lily then waved her hand to the girl lying on her stomach next to Mary, her pink-socked feet wiggling back and forth in the air.

"Alice Fortescue."

I had to reign in my emotions as I registered exactly who Alice Fortescue was. She would one day be known as _Alice Longbottom._ This was Neville's mother. I had no idea that Harry and Neville's mums had once been friends. I pictured the woman I had seen in St. Mungo's—her body withered away to nothing, eyes empty, wispy white hair hanging lank around her face. This girl looked nothing like the curse-addled woman I had met. Her face was plump, but very pretty and cheerful. Her light brown hair was cropped at her shoulders and pinned back from her face. She grinned back at the introduction.

"And Marlene McKinnon," Lily finished, pointing to the girl who had finished hanging her poster and was now sitting cross-legged on her bed. "She may seem like a bit of a bitch when you first meet her, but once you get to know her, you'll _know_ she's a total bitch."

_Marlene McKinnon—_ what did I know about her? I sifted rapidly through the memories of my previous life. Hadn't Harry mentioned the McKinnons after seeing Karkaroff's trial in Dumbledore's Pensieve? _"Travers—he helped murder the McKinnons—"_ Moody had mentioned her as well when he gave Harry the photograph of the First Order— _"That's Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family."_

So I was currently sharing a dormitory with three future members of the First Order of the Phoenix, and all three would be dead, or worse, by 1981.

Unless I was able to do something about it.

"Right back 'atcha, Lily-willy," Marlene replied, sticking out her tongue. Her curly blonde hair was piled on top of her head, and although she didn't have a trace of makeup on, she was stunning. Like, stupidly so. In a way that was completely unfair to all females in her vicinity. She was very tanned, likely from some sort of recent tropical holiday, and newly formed freckles were visible across her nose and shoulders.

"And this is Hermione Granger," Lily said to the room as a whole, gesturing back to me.

"Er, hi," I said awkwardly as all three girls turned to me. "Nice to meet you all." I glanced down the dormitory in search of my trunk, spotting it at the foot of the very last bed. I made my way toward it, shrugging off my robes as I walked, and sat down upon my new four-poster.

Seeming to sense my discomfort at being in the spotlight further, Alice spoke up. "So Lily, we were just talking about how our breaks were. How did you spend your hols? We hardly heard from you."

Lily was now sitting on the bed nearest mine, taking out a set of floral pajamas from her trunk. She rolled her eyes at Alice's question. "You know how much my sister hates owls. I was barely able to send any post all summer." She grimaced slightly before continuing, "I spent the whole damn summer being subjected to the constant presence of Tuney's _darling_ new boyfriend Vernon." She made a face as if she smelled something foul. "What kind of name is Vernon, anyway? It definitely suits him, though—walrus of a man, I tell you…" Her face lightened slightly before she finished, "But at least I was able to get a job as a lifeguard at the lido in Cokeworth."

"Ooo, a lifeguard?" Mary asked, looking up from her magazine. "So you spent the whole summer ogling boys? Any of them fit enough for your tastes?"

Lily tossed a pillow at Mary, but Mary simply flicked her wand and the pillow flew back toward Lily, landing neatly on the bed beside her. Lily laughed before answering, "Well there _was_ one boy…"

"Oh, really? Spill," I said, joining in on the conversation at last. I'd never been one for gossip, but this was an interesting turn of events.

"I agree with the new girl!" Marlene called out. I glanced over and noticed she was no longer sitting on her bed. Instead, she was lying on the floor in the middle of the room, clad only in her bra and knickers, evidently in the middle of her nightly fitness routine.

"The fuck are you doing, Mar?" Mary asked, tossing her magazine aside and scooting forward to peer over the edge of the bed at Marlene.

"Gotta be in top form for Quidditch!" Marlene huffed out as she completed another sit-up and flipped over to begin a set of push-ups.

Mary rolled her eyes, and Lily continued. "Well, his name was Christopher and he was positively dreamy." Her eyes glazed over as she reminisced. "I met him right after I landed the lifeguard gig. Hard not to notice him without his shirt on." She wiggled her eyebrows roguishly.

"So he lived up to Lily Evans's notoriously high standards?" Alice asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Hell yes, he did. His dad owned the local pub, so we spent most of our nights there, getting pissed off free drinks." I laughed along with the other girls at this, imagining Harry's expression if he were to hear about his mother's summer fling. "Absolutely brill. But he's a Muggle, so I ended things last week. It just wouldn't work with me back at school," she finished a little sadly.

"Well at least you're single for the new term, right?" I asked as I began to plait my hair for bed.

_Come on, isn't she meant to fancy James by this point?_

Lily heaved a sigh. "I suppose. But really, there's no one here at Hogwarts I'm interested in…"

Fitness regimen apparently complete, Marlene sat up from the ground, crossing her legs beneath her. She eyed Lily skeptically before saying with a snort, "Don't give me that bullshit, Lils. We all know who you've been pining over for the past year, even if you won't admit it."

_Ah, right on the money._

Lily flushed, turning her head away and saying with a sniff, "I have no clue what you're talking about."

All three girls burst into laughter, and Lily scowled at them. Marlene finally composed herself enough to say, "You know _exactly_ what we're talking about. The new Head Boy was looking fit tonight, wasn't he?"

"Fuck off, Mar," retorted Lily, face still pink. "Anyway, he's dating that Ravenclaw, isn't he? What's her name?"

"Delia, I think," Marlene answered, rolling her eyes. Evidently she didn't think very highly of the Ravenclaw girl. "But just because there's a Keeper doesn't mean you can't get the Quaffle through the hoop, if you know what I mean."

So James was currently dating someone else? Hmm… _the cauldron's been stirred and the potion thickens._

"Yeah, but unlike you, I'm not a slag," Lily replied with finality before tossing her hair over her shoulder and retreating to the bathroom.

Laughing along with the other girls, I extracted a new pair of pajama shorts and one of Ron's old Weasley jumpers from my truck. With a flick of my wand, I drew the hangings of my four-poster shut and changed quickly. I pushed up the sleeves of the oversized maroon jumper and looked down at my arm. The charm obscuring the degrading scar had worn away by now, but rather than cast it again, I simply shook the sleeve of Ron's jumper back to my wrist. I grabbed my toothbrush and opened the hangings again. Mary and Alice were still chatting happily about their own holidays as they dressed for bed.

I walked into the steamy bathroom to the sound of water running in one of the shower cubicles. Lily was standing in front of the long mirror above the sinks, scrubbing her face with a flannel. As I began to brush my teeth, Lily muttered, "I really have no clue what they're talking about. Me fancy Potter? Pfft." My mouth full of toothpaste, I could do nothing but grunt in response. She continued, "I mean, his head _has_ deflated a bit, and he isn't as much of a bullying toerag anymore. But honestly, they're all barking."

She splashed her face as I spit toothpaste into the sink, and we both returned to the dormitory. I pulled back the blankets on my bed, and she crawled into hers. "Breakfast begins at seven in the morning," Lily called out as she extinguished the lamp on her bedside table. "I'll make sure you're up so we can walk down together. I'd hate for you to get lost on your first day," 

"Thanks, I definitely appreciate it," I answered, stifling a yawn.

"No problem," she said, and before closing the hangings around her bed, she added, "Goodnight, Hermione."

"Night, Lily," I replied, pointing my wand at my own hangings and doing the same.

Sitting down on my four-poster, I grabbed my beaded bag from the bedside table and quickly summoned two tiny bottles of pain and Dreamless Sleep Potion. I certainly didn't need to have another breakdown on my first night in the dormitory. I knocked them back quickly, and then pointed my wand at my hangings, casting a quick _Muffliato_ just in case the potion wasn't effective. I sank back into my pillows, pulling my blanket up to my nose, and sleep quickly overcame me.

* * *

Just as she had promised, Lily woke me the next morning with plenty of time to spare. I showered and dressed quickly, drying my hair and applying a touch of makeup with a few swipes of my wand. I walked out to find Lily already dressed impeccably in her school robes, her Head Girl badge pinned to her chest. 

"Ready?" she asked, gesturing to the door.

"Just one moment," I replied, returning to my trunk to fetch my school bag. I stowed my beaded bag at the bottom beneath my books, not wanting to be without it. Walking past our still-sleeping dorm mates, we left the dormitory and descended the spiral staircase into the Common Room. It was completely empty.

"Sorry it's so early," said Lily, yawning widely as we exited through the portrait hole. "I like to be the first up on the first day of lessons."

I shook my head. "No, no it's perfectly fine. I'm the exact same, actually. It used to drive Harry and Ron mental."

"Well at least now there's two of us," she said, smiling. Suddenly, footsteps could be heard running up the corridor behind us. I turned quickly, my hand on the handle of my wand, but it was only Remus. I sighed in relief as Lily's smile broadened into a grin. "Actually, three of us," she amended.

Remus caught up to us, pushing his sandy brown hair from his eyes and hiking his school bag further up onto his shoulder. "The fuck, Lily?" he asked, still panting from the jog. "We always walk down together on the first day of term."

"Sorry, sorry!" Lily said as she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Remus's neck, giving him a tight embrace. He returned it, lifting her into the air and spinning her around. Laughing as her feet returned to the ground, Lily gave him a small peck on his scarred cheek and answered, "Sweet Merlin, I've missed you! Sorry we left without you." She then turned back to me. "I was distracted by Hermione—you two have met, right?"

"Yep, we have," I answered quickly before Remus could respond. I _really_ didn't want word of my hospital wing stay to spread, even if was just to Lily. "Good morning, Remus," I said, giving him a small hug as well. People were certainly very touchy-feely in the '70s. "I see Lily and I aren't the only early risers?"

The three us turned to continue our journey to the Great Hall as Remus explained. "Lily and I have gone down to breakfast together on the first day since we were second years. Our own little ritual of sorts. She insists it's good luck, but we both know she likes being the first to get her timetable."

Lily stuck out her tongue at Remus and nudged him with her elbow. "You say that as if you don't have the exact same intentions, Lupin."

Remus shrugged and I laughed at them both. Who knew Remus and Lily had been such good friends? God, third year must've been awful for Professor Lupin—seeing Harry every day and not being able to tell him stories about both his father _and_ mother.

I found myself drawn to Lily. I'd never had many female friends in my future, apart from Ginny, and our friendship had evolved throughout the years—and many visits to the Burrow—into something more akin to sisterhood. However, Lily and I seemed to have a great deal in common. She appeared to be as brilliant as I had been told, but she also seemed to absolutely _ooze_ confidence and sincerity. Did this girl have any faults at all?

We entered the Great Hall at seven o'clock sharp, along with a few Ravenclaws and overly-eager Hufflepuffs. The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall was dark and overcast, with the occasional flash of lightening crossing the swirling clouds. Lily and Remus acknowledged a few greetings from students of other houses as we crossed the hall to our table. They both seemed to be immensely well-liked, but I could also feel many eyes following me carefully as we took our places at the end of the Gryffindor table closest to the staff table. I was even more grateful now that we'd arrived early to a less-crowded Great Hall.

"Lovely morning, isn't it?" I said as we sat. All three of us looked up to the miserable gray sky above us.

Lily sighed. "I always hate when the weather is like this on the first day of term. If feels something like a bad omen for the coming year, you know?"

"Rubbish," Remus replied with a scoff. "Bad omen? You fucking hated Divination, Lils." Lily shrugged in response, still looking up to the dreary ceiling. "So, what classes are you two taking this year?" asked Remus conversationally as he poured himself a cup of tea and Lily a cup of coffee. "Tea or coffee, Hermione?"

Surprised at the gesture, I blinked at him for a moment, before answering. "Coffee, please."

I needed the caffeine boost, today of all days.

He nodded as he poured the steaming black liquid into the mug in front of me. I murmured my thanks as Lily answered his question. "Same as last year," she replied, ladling porridge into her bowl. "N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes. What about you, Remus?"

He raised his hands, ticking them off as he went. "Transfiguration, Herbology, D.A.D.A., Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, and Potions." He made a face at the last one. "No idea why I'm still taking Potions. I'm bloody awful at it. Honestly, without Lily or James's help, I'd be better off boiling water for tea in my cauldron."

"Too right you are, Moony," said James as he slid into the open seat beside me. The remaining Marauders had finally arrived. Sirius sat down opposite me next to Lily, with Peter joining us on Lily's other side. All three of them began loading their plates.

Lily rolled her eyes at James, before returning to our conversation. "So which classes will you be taking, Hermione? Do they have the same curriculum at Ilvermorny as we have here?"

I slowly took a sip of the scalding coffee, ignoring the sting on my tongue as I played for time. Which classes _would_ I be taking? I didn't have any record of my O.W.L. results, and honestly, I didn't have a clue what sort of examinations the students sat at Ilvermorny. I lowered the mug from my lips. "The same as you, Lily. Well, at least, that's what I hope to be taking. I'm not sure if my records have arrived or not."

Lily waved a hand dismissively. "I'm sure it won't be a problem with Professor Dumbledore as family. He would've informed you if he hadn't received them."

"You're right, I suppose," I said, still slightly worried. I added eggs, toast, and bacon to my plate and began to eat, listening to the conversations going on around me.

There was a sudden rustling of wings and a loud _whoosh_ as the morning post arrived. Hundreds of owls came soaring through the upper windows of the Great Hall, circling the house tables in search of their recipients. A sleek black owl appeared in front of James with a large package attached to its legs, and a brown barn owl had arrived for Lily, bearing the morning's _Daily Prophet._ I scolded myself for not taking out a subscription.

_I'm forgetting my purpose here already._

To my immense surprise, a tiny gray Scops owl landed in front of me as well, a small scroll of slightly grubby-looking parchment clasped in its beak. The minuscule owl looked remarkably like Ron's owl Pigwidgeon, with a small white tuft of feathers on top of its head. It released the letter from its beak, and hopped over to my plate politely, eyeing me inquisitively.

"Oh sure, here you go," I said to the little owl, feeding it a slice of bacon. The owl hooted softly in thanks as I unfurled the parchment.

* * *

_Hermione,_

_As your dad, I figured the decent thing to do would be to owl you on your first day of Hogwarts. Albus sent word of your arrival, and I'm pleased to hear you made it all right. I reckon we're both stuck with each other now, so why don't you come by the pub on Sunday around eleven for lunch? We might as well get formalities out of the way. I've cleared it with Albus. Send an answer back with the owl._

_Don't take after me and get into any duels on your first day. Good luck in lessons._

_Your father,  
_ _Aberforth P.C.W Dumbledore_

_P.S. The feathery snitch is for you. Bloke at Eeylops said it's a girl. Thought the fatherly thing would be to offer a welcome-back gift._

* * *

I read the letter twice, just to make sure I wasn't mistaken. After the second time through, I stared down at the parchment, dumbfounded. Aberforth was actually going the full-hog with this father business, wasn't he? I looked over at the tiny owl that was sitting on the edge of my plate, nibbling on the crusts of my toast. "So, you're mine now?" I asked quietly, arching an eyebrow at the small owl, who hooted happily and gave a tiny hop in response. I dug a quill and bit of parchment from my bag and began to scribble a quick response to Aberforth.

"That your owl, Hermione?" Sirius asked from across the table as he sipped from his mug of coffee. While I'd been engrossed in my letter, Marlene, Mary, and Alice had joined the table. Marlene was sitting beside Sirius— _very close_ to Sirius. I guess there's something going on there as well.

Ignoring the small pang in my gut at that thought, I nodded as I folded up the parchment. "Yeah, new owl actually. Gift from dad. Any idea what I should name her?"

"I've always been partial to Elvendork, myself," said James thoughtfully through a mouth full of scrambled egg.

Lily snorted. "Elvendork? Seriously, Potter?"

Sirius opened his mouth, evidently to make a lame pun, but Remus stopped him with a glare. "Don't, Padfoot. It's too early in the day for it."

"What's wrong with Elvendork?" asked James perplexedly as he swallowed, eyebrows furrowed almost comically at Lily's laughter.

"Oh come on, Lily-Flower. It's unisex!" added Sirius, elbowing Lily playfully in the ribs.

"How many times have I asked you to _not_ call me that?" replied Lily exasperatedly, elbowing him back.

"Pfft, you love it," Sirius retorted flippantly, reaching out to stroke the owl who was now drinking from his glass of pumpkin juice. "You just refuse to admit it, among other things—"

Rolling my eyes at their banter, I interrupted him, "No, I don't think Elvendork is quite right... "

"Oh, what about Evie?" Alice piped up from beside Peter. "A sweet name like that seems fitting for such a precious little owl."

"What do you think?" I asked, bending my head low to the level of the tiny owl, who had now hopped back to my plate. "Do you feel like an Evie?" She hooted happily in response. "All right then, Evie it is!" Offering my letter to her, I added, "Take this back to dad, please? You can go straight to the Owlery when you get back." She hooted once more, before nipping affectionately at my finger and accepting the letter in her beak. I gave her one last stroke on her feathery head before she took off, soaring through the high mullioned windows of the Great Hall.

Professor McGonagall finally made her descent from the staff table to begin distributing course schedules. Remus and Lily happily accepted theirs first—evidently McGonagall was aware of their tradition and was willing to go along with it.

"Miss Granger," said Professor McGonagall as she reached me. "Professor Dumbledore has provided me with your most recent exam results, and I must say, I'm very pleased to have you joining us this year. Which classes will you be taking this term?"

_Exam results?_ I thought, stifling my laughter—only someone as respected as Uncle Al would have enough clout to falsify such official documents.

"N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes. If that's okay, Professor?" I asked, looking up at her hopefully.

"Perfectly acceptable," she said with a nod, tapping the tip of her wand to the blank timetable and adding my list of courses to the parchment. "I'll see you Tuesday afternoon in Transfiguration." She then moved along the table to hand out the rest of the seventh year schedules.

"Hmm—Ancient Runes first," said Lily, her eyes rapidly scanning her own schedule. "Ready to go, Hermione?"

I nodded, downing the last of my cold coffee and tucking Aberforth's letter into my pocket. We both shouldered our bags and left the Great Hall, discussing our morning lessons as we departed.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): So we have a new D.A.D.A professor and Lily+Friends have finally joined the show! Please review and let me know what you think! Anything you'd like to see soon? Any common pitfalls of this type of story you think I should watch out for?  
> I know I've been updating rather quickly lately, but it'll slow down soon. I hope you enjoyed this longer chapter!  
> -liz


	8. Dog with a Bone

* * *

**Chapter 8: Dog with a Bone**

* * *

But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light.  
"Hermione, Neville's right — you _are_ a girl..."  
"Oh well spotted," she said acidly.  
_— Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire,_ J.K. Rowling

* * *

**Sirius:**

* * *

Sirius sat in his usual seat at breakfast in the Great Hall, sipping his coffee placidly as he attempted to observe Hermione discreetly from across the table. She was reading the letter she'd just received, her freckled nose scrunching in confusion as her amber-colored eyes traveled rapidly down the parchment. He wondered what news the letter held, because as she continued to read, her eyebrows rose in apparent surprise.

He wasn't sure what it was about this girl, but he was absolutely intrigued by her. Sure, his fascination probably began with her mysterious arrival, and intensified after he discovered what seemed to be Bella's wand (what the fuck was that, anyway?), but there was something more to it.

He didn't know whether it was friendship or romance that he wanted from her—or if he simply wanted to fuck her into her mattress. She wasn't exactly his usual type, either. She was alarmingly thin, as if she hadn't eaten properly in over a year. She certainly ate like it, too, with the way she scarfed down every meal like it was her last. Her hair could only be described as fucking _wild_ —untamed brown curls flowed down her back and bounced enticingly with every movement she made. She was pretty, though. Beautiful, even, the more he examined her. The cuts that had covered her face when he first found her had healed, but what seemed like dozens of tiny scars now shone white against her tanned skin. Her oxford was buttoned all the way to her neck, as if there were more scars she was concealing.

No—what Sirius felt the most when it came to Hermione Granger was _worried._ What the hell had happened to her? Who had hurt her? A primal urge to _protect_ surged through him as he gazed at the girl sitting across the table—even though he doubted she needed it, if those bloody reflexes of hers were any indication.

"Morning, handsome," a voice purred into his ear as someone slid onto the bench beside him. Speaking of his usual type—

"Morning, Mar. Nice of you to finally join us," Sirius said, giving Marlene a once over. Goddamn, she got even more fit every year. Even through her school robes, he could tell the summer hols had been extremely kind to Marlene.

Marlene rolled her eyes as she poured herself a cup of tea. Sirius returned his attention to Hermione, who was now speaking in a hushed voice to the tiny owl hopping in front of her.

"That your owl, Hermione?" he asked, taking another sip of his coffee. Hermione looked up, seemingly surprised at being addressed. He couldn't help but notice the way her pink lips pursed together in an annoyed fashion when she spotted Marlene.

_Interesting_ , he thought with a smirk, _very interesting._

* * *

Sirius had a free period first off, so eight o'clock found him on the grounds next to the Black Lake, hidden from view of the castle by his favorite beech tree. He'd shed his robes the instant he left the Great Hall, shoving them unceremoniously into his bag, instead donning his worn leather jacket. He was sitting on the damp grass, leaning up against the trunk of the tree with a Muggle cigarette held lazily between his fingers.

He brought the fag to his lips, inhaling deeply. What was he going to do about Marlene? He watched the smoke as it left his mouth, swirling around him as it joined the morning fog. Sure, they'd had a nice run over the summer—but it had always just been a bit of fun, right? Neither of them were exactly the type to settle down. Not anytime soon, anyway. They'd both made that perfectly clear. But how was he going to work out how he felt about this new girl if Marlene kept popping up?

He shook his head jerkily, his dark hair falling across his eyes. Honestly, he had more serious problems to face at the moment.

_His brother._

What was he going to do about Regulus?

"I figured this was where you'd gotten off to," someone said behind him. Sirius jumped, ash from his cigarette landing on his trousers. James Potter plopped down beside Sirius onto the grass, legs sprawled out in front of him.

"The fuck, Prongs?" Sirius said irritably as he brushed the ash from his trouser leg. "Warn me next time, you tosser."

"Pay better attention to your surroundings, brother. Especially if you're breaking about five school rules," James answered, indicating the lit cigarette in Sirius's hand. "I could give you detention for that, you know."

Sirius barked out a laugh. "You wouldn't fucking dare."

James shrugged. "You're right, as long as you're sharing."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "What happened to your whole bloody speech about _always being in top Quidditch condition?_ " He finished in a high-pitched, mocking tone, but James didn't even flinch.

Instead, James shrugged again, looking forlorn. "Honestly, I don't give a fuck at the moment."

Sirius tossed the half-empty pack to James, and pulled out his wand, igniting the tip. "What's got you so buggered today?" he asked as James placed the fag between his lips, leaning forward to let Sirius light it.

"What do you think, Padfoot?" James replied wearily, heaving a sigh and taking a long drag.

"Ah, the usual then?" said Sirius knowingly, bringing his own cigarette to his lips. James nodded silently. "But what about Delia? I thought you two were trying to make a proper go of it."

"Eh, we had a good time these past few months. Honestly, we did. It was fun working together this summer at Quality Quidditch Supplies." He paused, thinking for a moment, then added, "She's a bloody good shag, too." He shrugged again. "I dunno, Pads. She's a year younger than us, and couldn't be arsed about what's going on in the wizarding world."

Sirius's eyes darkened. "Yeah, hell of a deal breaker," he replied, shaking his head. "Shit's getting serious now."

"I know," James answered solemnly. "And then I see Lily—" his eyes glazed over as he continued. "She has all this fucking passion, you know? She wants to change the whole goddamned world one day. It's hard not to compare the two." He shook his head dejectedly and looked up to the swirling gray clouds above them. They were both quiet for a moment.

"I don't know what to tell you, mate," Sirius said finally, turning to look at James.

James heaved another great sigh and ran his fingers through his already untidy hair. "Well, enough of my bitching. How are you and Marlene?"

Sirius shrugged, exhaling the smoke from his lungs slowly. " _Is_ there even a 'me and Marlene'?"

James raised his eyebrows at Sirius quizzically. "I thought you two had been shagging like kneazles in heat all summer? Mum had to give you a bloody curfew, mate."

"I don't know," Sirius said slowly. "Me and Marlene—we've always been friends, you know? Ever since we were first years. I think we just work better as mates. She's great, don't get me wrong. But—"

"Does this have anything to do with the new girl? Hermione?" interrupted James, stubbing out his cigarette on the ground beside him.

"Prongs, I literally just met the bird three days ago," Sirius replied with a snort.

James, however, gave him a knowing look. "Yeah, if you say so. But I see the way you look at her. It's like watching a fucking dog with a bone." He paused, then correct himself, "Or a dog that really wants to _fuck_ said bone. Or bone said bone." He shook his head again. "Fuck, I'm bad at these analogies."

"Eh, I always want to fuck something," Sirius replied vaguely, determinedly avoiding James's gaze. Instead, he stared out at the mist rising off the lake.

"Be careful with her, Pads," warned James, his voice becoming more serious. "I like her and all, I really do. But there's just something about her. She has this… _haunted_ look in her eyes. Like she's seen some really horrible shit in the past."

"I know," said Sirius, his voice, too, more grave. "I told you how I found her. Something just doesn't add up…"

Sirius lit another cigarette. James ruffled his hair. Both wizards sat in silence, staring out across the Black Lake. Sirius watched as a thestral rose out of the Forbidden Forest, swooping low over the treetops before disappearing from view.

"There's something else bothering you though, mate. I can tell," said James, breaking the silence and turning back to look at Sirius.

Sirius pushed his hair out of his eyes before answering hollowly, "Regulus."

"Ah," James replied simply. They were silent a moment longer.

"I ran into him last night," Sirius continued in the same hollow tone, his expression unreadable. "On my way back to the tower after the feast."

"And?"

"He's going to do it."

_"Fuck,"_ James whispered, scrubbing his hand across his face.

"I know."

Sirius flicked his spent cigarette into the air, vanishing it with a flick of his wand as it fell. He stood, holding out a hand to James.

"Come on, Prongs. Defense Against the Dark Arts will be starting soon."

* * *

Sirius and James arrived in classroom 3C with only seconds to spare. The rest of the class was already seated, but their usual desks in the middle of the room next to Remus and Peter were empty. They both looked at each other as they sat, sharing a silent smirk. The professor was nowhere to be found, so Sirius lounged in his chair, leaning it back on two legs as he glanced around the room. His eyes easily found the girl that was at the forefront of his mind.

Hermione was sitting one row in front of him, three seats to the left, her copy of _Confronting the Faceless_ already open, parchment and quill at the ready. Her face was a stony mask. She was staring at the front of the room as if it were her job, evidently avoiding eye contact with someone. But with whom? Next to her sat Lily, who was pink in the face and kept casting wary looks in Hermione's direction.

What the fuck had happened?

"Books and quills away, please," someone called from the back of the classroom as the door opened. "We're going to have a practical lesson today."

Professor Prewett entered (fucking hell, which one was he?), and flicked his wand to the blackboard as he walked to the front of the room. As the class stowed their books away, the word **"DUELING"** slowly formed in chalk across the board. He turned to face the class. "From what I can gather, your past six Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers have been, for the most part, satisfactory. You're up to par when it comes to dealing with dark creatures and minor jinxes and hexes. However, we're going to start this term with a little return to the basics."

Unable to take the suspense any longer, Sirius raised his hand.

"Yes, Sirius?" Professor Prewett asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Er," Sirius began, unsure of how to continue. "Which twin are you?"

Professor Prewett laughed good-naturedly. "Really, Sirius? You were my second-string beater for two years." Sirius shrugged, and the professor continued. "I'm _Gideon."_

The entire class uttered a quiet _"oh"_ of realization, and Professor Prewett laughed even harder. "But that'll be Professor Prewett to you lot for the rest of the year. I know I'm not much older than you, but we've got to maintain at least some semblance of decorum, right?"

* * *

**Hermione:**

* * *

As Lily and I left Ancient Runes, she couldn't stop raving at how wonderful my previous instruction must have been. "I mean honestly, Hermione," she said, hiking her massive schoolbag onto her shoulder as we departed our first lesson. "You were completely caught up with the curriculum! Ahead of it, even. It's like you'd never attended another school at all."

_Because we had the same classes, Lils. Admittedly, mine were twenty years in the future._

However, I simply smiled and nodded as she continued her praise. We made our way through a doorway hidden behind a tapestry of a deserted moor and down the many staircases to the third floor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. We rounded the corner of the third floor corridor, and— _ **WHAM.**_

I collided with something.

_Hard._

I stumbled backward to the ground, landing straight on my arse.

_Constant-bloody-Vigilance, Hermione._

"Fucking hell!" I exclaimed as my wrists collided with the stone floor in an attempt to break my fall. It did nothing of the sort. Defeatedly, I leaned backward until I was lying flat on the ground, blinking up to the ceiling as I rubbed my injured wrists. I desperately hoped there were no teachers in the corridor to hear my swear.

Two people rushed to my aid—Lily, and the person I'd evidently walked into.

"Oh my God! Hermione, are you alright?" Lily squealed, crouching beside me and reaching forward to inspect my wrists. I quickly snatched my arms away, afraid she'd push back the sleeves of my robes.

"I'm fine Lils, just a bit bruised," I reassured her, but Lily was no longer looking at me. Instead, she was staring at the other person leaning over me.

I stared at him too, my blood running cold.

"Lily," he said in a tight, clipped tone. His lips were pressed together in a line so thin, McGonagall would be proud.

"Snape," she responded shortly, voice full of disdain. Her face was flushed blotchily, her eyes bright.

_What in the actual fuck was going on?_

The young Severus Snape looked just as I imagined. His dark hair hung in greasy curtains framing his sallow face, his complexion pallid and black eyes slightly shrunken. He looked as if he needed a friend to demonstrate how to properly shampoo his hair, and I desperately wanted to take him outdoors on a sunny day so he could soak up a bit of Vitamin D.

He held out his hand to help me to my feet, and I had no choice but to accept.

Oh Merlin, this boy would one day _murder Dumbledore_. But I knew my role here. I needed to save face. What had Dumbledore told me just days ago?

_Do you have any idea of the difference you could make by merely being here? By befriending those in need of it? By simply being in the right place at the right time?_

Was this the right place? The right time?

"Er, thank you. Sorry about that," I said to the young Snape, adjusting my disheveled robes as I stood. "I should have been paying better attention."

However, he wasn't looking at me. His eyes were fixed on Lily as if she was the only one there, a pained look of longing—and possibly regret—on his face.

_What fresh hell was this? Wait—was Snape in love with Lily?_

And then everything snapped into focus. Comprehension hit me with the speeding force of the Hogwarts Express, and I almost fell to the ground again as the revelation washed over me.

_Of course_ Snape was in love with Lily! It certainly explained why Professor Snape hated Harry so strongly—seeing the spitting image of James Potter with Lily Evans's eyes must have been pure torture. That also must have been why Dumbledore trusted him all those years, even when every bit of evidence pointed to the contrary. _That's_ why Dumbledore believed Snape felt genuine remorse over revealing the prophecy to Voldemort. But—if all of this was true, did Snape really _murder_ Dumbledore? Or was it some sort of insane plot concocted by Dumbledore?

And _why_ was Lily glaring at Snape as if he'd just killed her owl?

Fuck, this was way too much to take in at once.

_Right place, right time, Hermione._

I held out my hand to him. "Like I said, really sorry about that," I continued loudly. "Apparently my friend-making techniques are a little rusty. I'm Hermione Granger. And you are?"

He finally seemed to realize there were other people there—a whole damn hallway full of them, actually. I glanced around the corridor quickly. Peter looked worried and Remus looked ready to leap into action. Alice held Marlene's forearm in a vice-like grip, as if to hold her back from pouncing. Snape eyed me up and down before shaking my hand and responding in an oily voice I knew _so_ fucking well, "Severus Snape. A pleasure."

"Lovely to meet you, Severus," I answered in the kindest voice I could muster. "I assume we're both going to the same place now, right? Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

He nodded, eyebrows raised at my polite tone. Lily looked as if she'd just eaten an entire box of Cockroach Clusters.

I turned away from them both, entering the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and taking a seat in the middle of the room. I fixed my gaze determinedly forward, mind whirling. I wasn't sure if I could take much more today, and it wasn't even noon yet.

* * *

"So as I said, we're going to start with a return to the basics, just to make sure we're all on the same page. We'll start with dueling, then make our way back to a review of dark creatures. After that, we'll see if there's enough time left for you to learn something new. I thought we'd have an informal dueling match today—"

Before I was even aware I wanted to voice the question, my hand was in the air.

_Great, way to start your swotty little know-it-all reputation early._

"Yes, Miss…?" Professor Prewett asked, looking at me with a bemused expression.

"Er, Granger, sir. Hermione Granger. You said 'if there's enough time left' we'll learn more. Does that mean we'll be behind when it comes to N.E.W.T. standards?"

He eyed me closely. "Well Hermione, I've found that if you don't have a solid foundation, there's no way you'll be able to move forward. That's why I'm here. If the class works diligently and we're able to move quickly, I see no reason why anyone should be underprepared for their examinations.

"So, I thought we'd start off the year with an informal duel of sorts. As seventh years, I trust you're proficient in nonverbal spell-casting?"

The entire class murmured in agreement.

"Wonderful. I'd like at least fifty percent of every duel in my class to occur nonverbally. Can anyone tell me the advantage of nonverbal spells in dueling?" he asked.

I refrained from raising my hand. Lily's hand, however, shot into the air immediately, as did Alice's and two other Slytherins'. Snape simply looked bored.

Professor Prewett's eyes scanned the class, landing on Lily. "Yes, Lily?"

"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform, which gives you a split-second advantage," she said in a slight rush. Professor Prewett looked pleased at her verbatim definition.

"Exactly. I love when a class is prepared! Five points to Gryffindor." Lily grinned. "So, now I'd like for you all to stand and find a dueling partner," he said, pointing his wand to the chalkboard again. It rose into the air and glided back until it was flush with the wall. "And not the person sitting next to you, either. I'd like for you to pair with someone outside of your usual."

The entire class stood, and Professor Prewett waved his wand again, causing the desks and chairs to soar toward the wall, landing in neat stacks, and the school bags to fly to the back of the room.

"That includes you too, James and Sirius," Professor Prewett called out, and everyone snickered.

I glanced around the room, searching for a familiar face. Marlene and Mary were already facing one another, wands held loosely at their sides, awaiting further instruction. It appeared the Marauders had simply swapped, with James partnering with Peter and Sirius with Remus. The Slytherins were pairing off as well, and it seemed there were only three Gryffindors remaining—me, Lily, and Alice.

And one final Slytherin.

—Snape.

_Shit._

Lily seemed to be unaware of this unfortunate turn of events, however, and turned to me, saying, "Hermione, you can partner with Alice, and I'll take whoever is left. What do you think?"

She must've noticed my slightly panicked expression, because she then turned to see who her partner would be. Her eyes took on the same alarmed look as mine, and I knew there was no way I could allow this to occur.

"No, no, you and Alice stay over here," I told her, placing a hand on her arm reassuringly. "I'll partner with Severus, okay?"

She opened her mouth to object, but rather than give her the opportunity, I quickly crossed the classroom to stand in front of Severus. He gave me the same haughty once over as he had in the corridor, and said softly for only me to hear, " _Wonderful_. I'm stuck with the fucking new girl."

Arching an eyebrow at his blatant incivility, I replied silkily, "And I'm stuck with the arse-face. However, the difference is I'm not complaining about it."

He glowered down at me, but his demeanor relaxed slightly, and I could tell he respected me a bit more for not quailing at his comment.

_Fucking overgrown bat—_ Hermione Granger is _anything_ but timid.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sirius struggling to reach me and Severus, likely desiring to intervene, but Remus was gripping his arm, restraining him with a hissed warning of—"Just _wait."_

"Alright everyone, now that you've all found partners, spread out across the room! You'll need enough space to move around," Professor Prewett shouted over the noise of the class.

Severus and I broke away from the others and moved to the back corner of the room, all the while never breaking eye contact. I tossed my hair over my shoulders as we walked. He pushed up the sleeves of his robes.

"We're only aiming to disarm, but be creative with how you get there! I need to see what you can _do._ No banned hexes, no dark curses, and—it goes without saying— **NO** Unforgivables," said Professor Prewett sternly as his eyes roved over the class. "I trust you all know proper dueling etiquette? Alright—face your partners." There was a shuffling throughout the room as the class prepared. "Now, bow."

I stared into Severus's black eyes as we both bent low before each other, and I noticed they were different than I remembered. In the future, his eyes had been nothing but cold. Now, however, they were alight with curiosity. He wanted to know what the new girl was capable of. I felt a sinking sensation in my gut—I was very unlikely to win this duel. Although Harry had taught me a great deal over the past few years, I was aware that I wasn't the most skilled when it came to combat.

"Wands at the ready!"

We both raised our wands, arms steady and sure. My wand grew warm in my palm—releasing the same pleasant heat it had on the day I'd won it properly, as if reassuring me that _**it**_ was ready as well. Confidence surged throughout my body, flooding my arteries, saturating my nerves.

I smirked.

"Ready?" Snape mouthed to me, his face full of something close to excitement.

I winked in response.

His eyes widened slightly and he smirked too.

"On the count of three, you may begin your duel—one… two… **THREE!** "

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): I thought I'd give a little look from Sirius's perspective, just to change things up a bit. Let me know if you like it, and I'll include a few more bits like it in the upcoming chapters. Thank you for reading, and please leave a comment/review to let me know what you think! Oh, and special thanks to my beta (aka my wonderful boyfriend) for helping me figure out what exactly should being going on in Sirius's brain.
> 
> :)  
> -liz


	9. Fought Like Heroes

* * *

**Chapter 9: Fought Like Heroes**

* * *

"Blocked again and again and again until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter!" sneered Snape, deflecting the curse once more.  
_— Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince,_ J.K. Rowling

* * *

 _ **Previously on GTTN...  
**_ "On the count of three, you may begin your duel—one… two… **THREE!** "

* * *

Our bodies slid into our own unique dueling stances, but no spells left our wands.

_Yet._

Instead, Severus and I circled one another like lions circling prey—wands held aloft as we examined our opponent—scrutinizing form, searching for points of weakness. The noise of the surrounding duels filled my ears—curses whizzing, hexes banging—and in that moment, I realized— _I was in my element._

I was a product of war, after all.

I quickly took inventory of the situation.

I noted the way he cocked his head slightly to the side as he observed me, as if considering his first move carefully. He rotated his neck, cracking his spine in a way I supposed he thought was intimidating. His wand was held loosely between his middle finger and thumb, steadied by his index finger with the handle flush with his palm. I'd once seen this precise grip used by Lord Voldemort himself—and it was also a technique I was employing now. It provided much more effective wrist control. He appeared relaxed, but I could tell he was maintaining tension in his core. This was a tip I'd learned from Harry. I finally took note of his stance—he held himself as if inside of a box, his arms never straying far from his body.

And with that, my strategy took form.

I cast the first spell—a nonverbal Jelly Legs Jinx _—_ and he blocked it with ease, just as I had predicted. Smirking at the sophomoric jinx, he returned fire quickly with what appeared to be a Full Body-Bind Curse. I parried it smoothly with with a simple Shield Charm. As I sent an Impediment Curse his direction, I felt a nudge at the back of my brain, like a gentle caress of my occipital lobes before someone gained unwelcome entry.

Of course he was a master of nonverbal-fucking-Legilimens at seventeen. He wanted access to my mind. He wanted the advantage of knowing my every move before I made it.

_I don't have bloody time for this, Snape._

I hastily gathered my thoughts, placing them inside the compartment of my mind reserved for this very purpose. I erected the familiar walls inside my brain, shielding myself from his mental attack. His eyes narrowed as his attempt to delve into my mind was unsuccessful, and another hex left the tip of his wand. I had a strong urge to stick out my tongue as I deflected it.

Thank _Merlin_ I'd taken the time to learn Occlumency on my own. There was little else to do while trapped day after day in that godforsaken tent, after all.

Our duel took place in utter silence, and we continued in this manner—

_Hex._

Shield.

_Jinx._

Block.

_Curse._

Deflect again.

—for a short while. It seemed we were evenly matched and the duel would have no victor—until I decided to change the pace. Instead of using _Protego_ to avoid his next advance, I simply ducked out of the way, my entire body lowering into a crouch. Surprise flashed across his face. Before I'd even fully righted myself, I pointed my wand into the air, thinking _Avis._ Small yellow birds twittered as they circled the two of us, but I knew better than to rely upon that distraction alone. He shot another spell, and I spun on the spot to avoid it, pirouetting with surprising grace out of his line of fire.

The moment my body was in line with his once more, I knew my plan had worked. My unexpected physical maneuvering had forced his wand arm further away from his body, opening up his stance. This was my best shot. I pointed my wand directly at his chest, incanting _Oppugno_ inside my head. My beautiful birds turned fierce, raining down upon him. He let out a comical, high-pitched shriek and cowered with his arms protecting his face as they began to peck, distracting him from my final move.

I immediately disarmed him. His wand left his fingers and soared through the air, landing neatly in my outstretched hand. With a flick of _his_ wand, I clearly stated aloud, " _Finite_ ," and the birds ceased their attack. I then vanished the lot of them from sight with a final sweep of his wand.

He stood and I tossed his wand back to him. As he caught it, I nearly gasped in surprise as I noticed he was _smiling._ Grinning, even. I wasn't sure I'd ever seen such a look cross the face of Severus Snape before in my life. It transformed his face completely, making it almost handsome. Utterly perplexed, I rushed forward.

"Sorry, sorry!" I said as I reached him. "If you'll let me see your arms, I'll heal those scratches for you?"

He simply shook his head, still grinning, and tapped his wand to his arm. The scratches and cuts the birds had caused healed instantly.

Suddenly, I realized the room was strangely quiet.

I turned around slowly.

The entire class had already completed their own dueling matches and had evidently decided to watch the bloody show. Color flooded my face as I saw every eye in the room fixed upon me. Mary and Marlene were simply gaping. Alice's face held something close to respect, and Lily looked strangely suspicious. James and Peter had the same dumbfounded expressions as they had the night before when I revealed my relation to Dumbledore. However, Remus and Sirius didn't look surprised at all. Instead, they were both grinning approvingly, sharing a silent fist-bump behind their backs. I didn't think I'd ever been so mortified in my life, including the time Malfoy enlarged my front teeth to walrus-sized proportions.

Professor Prewett broke the silence.

"Absolutely brilliant, Hermione and Severus! I think it's best if we end on that note," he said to the class as he pointed his wand over his shoulder, returning the blackboard to its original position. The homework assignment appeared. "I want a fifteen-inch essay due next class on the importance of nonverbal incantations in dueling situations."

No one moved.

"Well go on then, you lot. If I'm releasing you early, I expect you to actually _leave."_

Finally, the class began gathering their bags and exiting the room. There was a soft tap on my shoulder, and I turned to see Severus holding out his hand, that bloody grin still plastered across his face. "Very impressive, Granger," he said approvingly. "I hope we can make this a regular occurrence."

_When did the world become so arse-backwards?_

I didn't think it was possible, but my face burned even more deeply scarlet. I grasped his hand, shaking it quickly as I replied, "Er, yeah. Thank you. You were really great as well."

Shaking his head incredulously, he released my hand and walked to the door. I immediately went to fetch my bag and get the hell out of there too, but I was halted by Professor Prewett.

"Hermione, would you mind sticking around for a moment?" he called from the front of the classroom where he had begun to gather a few scrolls of parchment into his briefcase. I nodded perplexedly, picking up my bag and walking slowly to his desk.

"You're dismissed too, Sirius," said Professor Prewett over his shoulder as he closed his briefcase, the clasps clicking as it locked. I turned and saw Sirius lurking in the doorway, his face full of concern.

"I'll catch up with you in the Great Hall, okay?" I said to him quietly with a small jerk of my head. He gave me an intense, burning stare before nodding hesitantly and departing the room.

"Come with me to my office, Hermione," said Professor Prewett, using his thumb to indicate the oaken door at the front of the classroom. "If it's alright with you, of course?"

I simply nodded again and followed him into the small office. As he sat behind his desk, he aimed his wand at the door, closing it until it was open only an inch. He then gestured to a brown leather armchair facing the front of his desk, and I sat, perched on the edge of my seat.

His office was one I'd entered many times under the tenure of my future professors, and each had brought their own unique tastes to the room. Professor Prewett appeared to be very minimalistic. His desk was constructed from darkly varnished walnut and was bare, except for a jar of ink and one lone silver frame containing a moving wizarding photograph of a family of redheads. A single ray of sunshine had made it past the dreary gray clouds outside and was streaming in through the open window behind his desk, brightening the room. There was a long, high bookshelf on the side wall filled with everything from Auror's manuals to defensive spellbooks. I even saw a book on household charms.

My eyes grew wide as I noticed the clock displayed on the middle shelf. It was an exact replica of another very familiar clock—the one that hung in the sitting room of The Burrow. Like Mrs. Weasley's clock, this one also had nine hands. However, some of the names labeling the hands of this clock were different. I squinted in an attempt to read the tiny letters. I could make out Gideon, Fabian, Molly, and Arthur, along with the three Weasley children already born: Bill, Charlie, and Percy. There was also Florinus and Ottoline, who I assumed were Professor Prewett's parents.

I returned my gaze to Professor Prewett to find him leaning back in his desk chair, relaxed, but eyeing me closely. He really was quite handsome. I heard Ginny's voice inside my head, telling me that I only thought so because I had a "thing" for redheads. Well first of all, Ginny would warn me to stop checking out her dead uncle.

I also noticed that his eyes were the precise shade of cornflower blue as Ron's had been.

My stomach squirmed uncomfortably.

_Fought like heroes._

I broke the silence.

"That's a very unique clock, sir," I said, pointing to the shelf.

He let out a deep, charming laugh. "Oh Merlin, please _don't_ call me 'sir,'" he said, shaking his head. "I swear, this job makes me feel as old as my dad. Gideon is fine for now."

"Right," I replied, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. "Gideon it is, then."

He laughed again, the edges of his eyes crinkling. "Yes, my clock is an interesting piece, alright. It's actually an invention of my dad's. He made four of them—one for my mum and each of his children."

I licked my lips. "Er, yeah. It's certainly very fascinating."

"Well, enough small talk," he said, waving his hand dismissively. His demeanor then changed, becoming more serious. He sat up straighter in his chair. "Those were some very impressive dueling skills, Hermione."

"I suppose," I replied vaguely, giving a noncommittal shrug.

"There's no suppose about it," he replied incredulously. "I saw techniques from you today that I would only expect to see in _at least_ the second year of training at the Auror Academy. You assessed your situation carefully and formed an effective strategy in less than ten seconds. That's pure skill, Hermione."

I stared determinedly down at my hands in my lap, picking at a bit of skin on my thumb. I shrugged again.

"I'm not going to ask where you learned to duel so well," he continued. I looked up, furrowing my brows in confusion. He shook his head and ran a hand through his bright red hair. "No, I don't want to know. Not yet, anyway." He paused, scrutinizing me for a moment, then finished, "However, I'd like to help you."

I blinked at him.

"Help me?" I asked blankly.

"Yes, help you," he repeated. "I'd like to have a few training sessions outside of your normal classwork so we can work on honing your skills."

I stared at him.

"Er, well—thank you, I guess," I replied, feeling very shocked. "I really don't know what to say—"

"No thanks necessary. I'm just doing my job," he said with a shrug. He then leaned forward across his desk, lowering his voice solemnly. "The world is a dangerous place right now, Hermione. Skills like yours shouldn't be ignored."

Right. He wanted to train a soldier.

_Been there, done that, Gid._

"I'd also like to keep these extra sessions between us for now," he added in a hushed tone. "There are those out there who would prefer you not be taught some of what we'll cover."

"Of course. I understand completely," I answered, thinking of Umbridge. "One question though," I continued, my voice just above a whisper. He leaned closer, listening attentively. "Are you helping me for the benefit of the Ministry or—" I paused, biting my lip. _Should I even ask?_ The metallic tang of blood hit my tongue. "Or for the benefit of The Order?"

His wand was out and pointed to the door in one fluid motion. It closed quickly with a sharp snap. He then directed his wand at me, the tip level with my nose.

I didn't flinch. I expected this reaction. I fixed my gaze firmly upon his, bracing myself for an interrogation.

"How do you know about The Order?" he asked, his voice low and sharp. The tips of his ears were turning red, reminding me painfully of Ron.

"Dumbledore," I replied simply, not breaking eye contact.

He stared at me, unblinking. "Dumbledore, huh?" he asked skeptically.

I nodded.

"I'll be checking on that," he replied, eyeing me shrewdly as he lowered his wand.

I shrugged. Of course he should. It's what I would do.

We were both silent for a moment. He sank back in his chair, staring at me intensely as if debating his next words. "And to answer your question," he said slowly. "I suppose a bit for both."

He then pushed back his chair suddenly and stood. He walked to the door, holding it open for me in an obvious dismissal. "Stay back after next lesson and we'll schedule a time to meet, alright?"

I nodded and stood as well, shouldering my school bag as he returned to his desk. I was almost through the door when I stopped abruptly, turning back to him.

"One more thing," I said quietly. He looked up from his desk where he had begun writing on a long scroll of parchment. "Why does the Ministry have an Auror teaching at Hogwarts this year?"

He heaved a weary sigh, but his eyes stared straight into mine once again. There was something behind them that I couldn't quite identify. "I think you already know the answer, Hermione."

I gave a curt nod of understanding.

Of course—Hogwarts was an ideal recruiting ground for Voldemort. There were quite a few mini-Death Eaters in the making here.

"Goodbye, Gideon," I said with finality, turning to leave.

"Be careful, Hermione," he replied in a voice so low, I almost wondered if I was meant to hear it.

* * *

As I closed the door of Gideon's office, I glanced down at my watch. There was only twenty minutes remaining in the lunch hour.

_Lovely._

I walked slowly across the D.A.D.A. classroom, weighing my options. Should I hurry to the Great Hall for a quick lunch? Or head up to the Gryffindor Common Room? I had Friday afternoons off this term, something I was extremely grateful for now. This day already felt as if it had lasted years, and I didn't think I could stomach the mutters and stares that were sure to follow me after that thoughtless display in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

 _What had I been thinking?_ Why hadn't I just let Snape win the fucking duel? Honestly, I'd never expected to win the duel in the first place, but I knew that was no excuse. My performance was certain to draw unneeded attention. It had been careless. Reckless, even. Utterly ill-advised.

I sighed deeply as I pushed open the classroom door. Maybe I should just go to the library? I closed the heavy wooden door and leaned back against it, closing my eyes and exhaling slowly through my nose. The library was certainly not a hotspot on Friday afternoons, so maybe I'd be lucky enough to find a secluded corner and avoid any further embarrassment today. Yes, the library seemed to be my best option for solitude at the moment. My decision final, I opened my eyes and turned in the direction of the library. However, the corridor was not, as I had previously thought, empty.

A few paces away, Sirius was leaning against the wall, watching me intently as if we had a prior appointment. Had he been waiting here this entire time?

"Shouldn't you be in the Great Hall?" I asked him as I approached.

"Should be, but I'm not," he replied vaguely, still leaning against the wall with the sort of careless air only he could achieve.

I arched an eyebrow at him. "So why the hell are you lurking in abandoned corridors? Some people might find this sort of behavior creepy, you know."

He barked out a laugh, walking forward and putting an arm around my shoulders. "Put the claws away, kitten. You have Friday afternoons free, right?"

"Yes…" I replied slowly.

He gave my shoulder a squeeze. "Brilliant! We're going somewhere."

"Going somewhere?" I repeated suspiciously as he steered me down the corridor. "Where _exactly_ are we going?"

He leaned closer to me as we walked, his face only inches from my ear.

"You'll have to wait and see."

 _Oh Merlin,_ this couldn't lead anywhere good.

* * *

 


	10. Sensitive Material

* * *

**Chapter 10: Sensitive Material**

* * *

 Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid—  
— _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone,_ J.K. Rowling

* * *

"Alright boss, what's the plan?" I asked Sirius as we approached the middle of the third floor corridor. No matter what he had in mind, I was willing to bet my wand it was destined to be a terrible idea. However, after the emotionally trying day I'd had so far, I was feeling a bit reckless.

_Harry would be so proud._

"Boss?" he snorted as he withdrew his wand from the pocket of his robes. "No, no, more like—partners in crime." He shot me a roguish grin and placed his dark gray wand between his teeth. He began shrugging off his school robes, and I couldn't help noticing how nice his school jumper looked stretched across his toned chest. I supposed swinging a Beater's bat was good for the pectoral muscles.

"Does this little escapade require us to be starkers?" I asked, arching an eyebrow as his robes fell to the floor of the corridor.

He snorted again, but his wand prevented him from responding. He opened his school bag and pulled out a thoroughly well-worn black leather jacket. He slid it on and fetched his robes from the ground, balling them up in a disorderly fashion and shoving them into his bag. He finally removed his wand from his mouth, tucking it into the inside pocket of his jacket. "Nope, just sans-school robes," he said with the same charming grin. He gave me a short nod. "Your turn, kitten."

Despite knowing I would surely regret it later, I rolled my eyes and let my school bag fall to the ground beside me. I unbuttoned my robes and slid my arms from the sleeves, grateful for the long-sleeved jumper I wore beneath them. As I adjusted my skirt, I noticed his eyes travel from the top of my head to my toes and then back again.

_Boys._

"What next?" I questioned as I knelt onto the stone floor, folding my robes neatly and stowing them away. I tossed my hair over my shoulder as I picked up my bag and faced him again.

He held out his hand to me. "Your bag."

I merely looked my confusion.

He raised his eyebrows and crooked the fingers of his outstretched hand as if I were being thick. "Just pass me your school bag."

Wordlessly, I removed my bag from my shoulder and placed the leather strap in this hand. He slung it across his body next to his own. He then glanced from side to side down the corridor, as if checking to see if the coast was clear. "Come closer," he whispered, turning to face the stone wall and gesturing to the spot beside him.

"Sirius, what—"

"Shhhhh." He closed his hand around my wrist, pulling me flush with his side.

"Did you just shush me?" I whispered, half affronted, half of me beginning to think he'd gone mental.

"Just wait," he mouthed as he withdrew his wand from his pocket.

It was then that I realized where we were and what he was about to do.

" _Dissendium_ ," he muttered, tapping the tip of his wand to the statue of the One-Eyed Witch in front of us. The kyphosic hump of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor opened, revealing a small entrance. I wasn't even sure Sirius could fit through it. "Wait ten seconds and then follow me, okay?" he whispered, tossing both of our bags down the hole. "I'll be waiting to catch you at the bottom." Before I could voice the objection on my lips, he climbed smoothly through the opening in the witch's hump, disappearing from sight.

" _Sirius,_ " I admonished in a hiss—but he was already gone. I glanced quickly up and down the corridor. What was I meant to do now? I couldn't _leave_ the castle. But I knew he was waiting for me, along with all of my books.

I heaved a sigh.

Oh, sod it _all._

I carefully placed a foot on the stone base of Gunhilda's statue and hoisted myself up head-first into the entrance of the passageway. I nearly shrieked as I descended what seemed to be a long, stone slide. Sirius was waiting at the bottom, but rather than sliding into his arms as he had promised, I collided with him, limbs flailing as we tumbled forward.

He fell back against the earthy ground as I landed on top of him, wrapping his arms around my middle to steady us both. He smirked up at me. "I guess I should've warned you to come down feet first, eh?"

Our faces were inches apart. "Yes, you bloody well should have!" I hissed breathlessly. "Or at least warned me that I was about to take a ride on the slide of _doom!"_

He roared with laughter and rolled over so I was pinned beneath him. For a short moment, he stayed, his body pressing heavily against mine. I could feel every contour of his muscles, every expansion of his lungs. He then planted his hands on the ground on either side of my head, raising himself up to hover over me. His breath was warm against my face and smelled pleasantly of spearmint. "Let's get going then, shall we?" he said nonchalantly, as if this sort of thing were a daily occurrence. He pushed off from the ground with a small huff and stood, holding out a hand to help me to my feet. Still in shock, I blinked up at him for a moment before accepting.

"We should leave our bags," he stated decisively as I stood. "We'll have a load to carry back anyway, so we'll be better off without them." I adjusted my disheveled uniform and attempted to flatten my disorderly curls. He grinned and reached out, tugging on the end of one particularly rebellious ringlet.

"A load to carry back?" I asked, my face coloring at the intimate gesture.

"Don't question it, love," he answered cryptically as he tossed our bags into the corner of the dark passageway. Turning back to me, he withdrew his wand and muttered, " _Lumos."_ The tip of his wand shone brightly like a Muggle torch, and I followed suit. The light from our wands illuminated the earthy walls of tunnel before us. It was cold and damp with a low, sloping ceiling that grazed the top of Sirius's head. The passage seemed to go on for ages, and was so narrow, our arms brushed together with every step we took.

"I don't like mysteries, you know," I told him as we walked. I stumbled slightly on a patch of uneven earth, and his hand shot out quickly to steady me. Ignoring my second Tonks-like moment of clumsiness of the day, I continued, "I'm the type of girl that always likes to know the plan _._ "

He snorted, evidently assuming he already had the measure of me. "Of course you do, kitten. But you've got to learn to live a little, have a few adventures." He opened his arms wide in a grand gesture. "Mysteries keep life interesting."

_Oh, don't I know it, Sirius. My entire existence is a bloody mystery right now._

"Live a little?" I scoffed. "I'll have you know that I've had _plenty_ of adventures."

"Oh really now?" he asked, turning to me with interest. "Like what?"

I paused, halting our progress down the tunnel. I tapped the tip of my nose with my index finger, looking up to the earthy ceiling of the tunnel as I debated which story to share. There were very few I could safely discuss. "Well..." I said slowly, building anticipation. I resumed the walk down the tunnel abruptly, leaving him standing behind me. He rushed to catch up. "I fought a troll during my first year of school—and _won."_

Might as well start from the very beginning.

He let out a disbelieving chuckle. "I'm sure you did," he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "And I'm Britain's best bloody dragon trainer."

"Well, I'm not a dragon _trainer,"_ I said with a small laugh. "But I have _ridden_ a dragon before."

He stopped walking suddenly and reached out to grasp my forearm. He eyed me through furrowed brows. "You're actually serious, aren't you? Not taking the piss?"

"As serious as your name," I answered flippantly, enjoying the easy pun as I pulled my arm away from his grip and continued down the passage. It took me a moment to realize he hadn't followed me. I stopped and turned to find him still standing where I left him, his lips moving soundlessly.

"Holy shit," he said when he found his voice. "That duel—and now a _dragon?_ You're a total badass!"

"I don't know about 'badass', per say." I tapped my nose again as if in contemplation. "But yes," I concluded with a wicked grin. "I suppose I _have_ done some pretty interesting things in the past."

— _or the future._

He shook his head in disbelief. We continued our journey down the passage in silence for a moment, before Sirius asked suddenly, "So are you going to tell me how you ended up on the back of a fucking _dragon_ , or were you just planning to leave me here in suspense?"

"Nope, that's a story for another day, I think," I answered in an unconcerned tone. He let out a low growl of frustration, and I could tell he hated being told no. "But I _suppose_ I can tell you about the time we fought the troll."

"Well go on then," he said, his tone betraying his eagerness.

"It was October of my first year of Ho–Ilvermorny—Halloween, actually. I missed the feast because a stupid boy in Charms teased me for being a know-it-all." I ignored the sharp pang deep in my gut as I thought of Ron. Holy hell, I missed him so much it physically _hurt_.

"I ended up crying in the loo for hours," I continued, shaking my head. "I was about to head to my dormitory when a twelve-foot bloody mountain troll came strolling into the girls' lavatory. I nearly fainted, and not just because of the smell of him. I screamed my head off, and two boys in my year came running to help. We ended up fighting the damned thing. Harry leapt onto the troll's back and shoved his wand up its nose, and Ron levitated the troll's club onto its head, knocking it out cold," I paused, smiling faintly at the memory. "And we've been best friends ever since."

"Son of bitch," said Sirius with a low whistle. "You could've been killed. How the hell did a _troll_ get into a school?"

"Ah, that's also a story for another day," I replied cryptically. He shot me a look. "Hey, if you're allowed to be mysterious, so am I." He continued to scowl, so I nudged him playfully with my elbow.

"All these bloody secrets…" he muttered under his breath. I didn't respond, instead choosing to continue down the tunnel in what I felt was a dignified silence. However, it seemed he wasn't one to remain quiet for long. "How did your friends feel about you moving away? I don't know what I'd do without James, Remus, or Peter."

I stiffened. How could I answer that question?

_Oh, they don't have a clue, actually. They were murdered by Lord-effing-Voldemort and his merry gang of blood-thirsty followers right before I disappeared in a burst of time-traveling light. But hey, I imagine they'd be pretty gobsmacked if they knew who I was chatting with now._

This time, I decided on the truth—or, at least, parts of it.

"They, er—aren't around anymore," I responded vaguely, my voice surprisingly steady. I took a deep breath as I suppressed the emotions swelling inside my chest. I felt as if the poorly-patched hole there was on the verge of splitting open again.

He turned to look at me, confusion written across his face. "When you say they aren't around—" he said slowly.

"Something happened before I left, and they didn't make it," I interrupted calmly. I cast my eyes downward, watching our feet hit the earthen ground with each step. I didn't want to see the pity I was certain to find in his eyes.

We continued walking, but his hand found its way into mine. His roughly calloused palm scuffed against my own as he laced his long fingers with my smaller ones. He gave my hand a soft squeeze. "Fuck, Hermione, that's bloody _awful_ ," he said sincerely. "I can't even imagine..."

"I'm okay now, don't worry," I lied reassuringly, finally locking eyes with him. "I've had time to deal with it." The light emanating from our wands cast his face into shadow, but I was able to search his silver eyes as he gazed down at me. Surprisingly, I didn't find pity there—I saw only worry.

He shook his head in disbelief. "No one can deal with something like that on their own." He gave my hand one final squeeze before releasing it. An odd chill washed over me the instant he withdrew his hand, and I found myself missing his comforting warmth against my skin. "I know you've only been here a few days," he continued. "But you have friends here, too. We may not know each other very well yet—"

"Thanks, Sirius, really," I interrupted again, my voice falsely light. "But I promise, I'm fine." We were straying into dangerous territory, and I wasn't sure I'd be able to hold myself together if we discussed it any further. He seemed to get the hint, however, and decided to change the subject.

"So, I should probably tell you the goal of our little outing before we reach our destination," he said cheerfully. We'd finally reached the end of the long underground tunnel and had begun to climb the set of rickety wooden stairs leading to the exit.

"Well, I assume we're going to do something in Hogsmeade, right?" I answered, and he raised his eyebrows. "It's the only logical conclusion, seeing as we're heading away from the castle."

"Astute deduction, Miss Granger," he replied with his best Professor McGonagall imitation. However, he was unable to maintain the serious facade for long. We both began laughing as his mockingly-professional mask slipped

"Astute, Sirius? Word of the day?"

"Damn, what's with you people?" he retorted defensively. "Maybe I just have an exceptionally extensive vocabulary." I snorted and glanced at him skeptically. He glared for a moment before heaving a defeated sigh. " _Fine."_ he conceded. "Marlene gave me a word-of-the-day calendar for Christmas. I'm a bit behind again, actually. 'Astute' was Monday's word."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help but fall silent at the mention of Marlene. Honestly, I didn't want to know about the dynamics of their relationship yet. She seemed like a nice enough girl, and Sirius and I were having such a great time together. I wasn't in a rush to muck it up.

"So yeah, you're right," he continued, interrupting my silent contemplation. "We're going to Hogsmeade to procure some sensitive material."

"What sort of 'sensitive material'?" I asked, thinking of Mundungus and his unique business ventures. "We aren't trafficking black-market doxy venom or smuggling dodgy cauldrons, are we?"

"Where do you come up with this stuff?" He laughed again and bumped lightly against me as we climbed. "You have one hell of an overactive imagination. No, we're just fetching supplies for the party tonight."

"Party?" I asked slowly, arching an eyebrow at him. "What _party?"_

"You have a lot to learn, new girl," he replied with a smirk. "If there's any reason at all to celebrate, the Marauders throw a blow-out. The start of our last year at Hogwarts is more than enough reason to get thoroughly pissed."

We both fell silent as we approached the top of the staircase, and he reached up to open the trapdoor over our heads. "Be _very_ quiet, okay?" he whispered into my ear. "And extinguish your wand. We have to get out of here quickly before they notice us."

Ah, we had to sneak out of the Honeydukes cellar without being caught.

_Wonderful._

" _Nox,"_ I muttered as he pushed open the trapdoor. We both peered into the dark cellar. It was empty.

"Follow me," he whispered, climbing through in the opening in the floor and holding out his hand to assist me. We made our way through the maze of crates and boxes by the light of Sirius's wand until we reached the stairwell leading to the sweet shop. We had just begun our silent climb, when the door on the landing above us opened.

I froze, my pulse quickening and my stomach sinking. In the open doorway at the top of the stairs stood a goodnatured-looking middle-aged man. However, he didn't look very happy to find two Hogwarts students creeping about his cellar. The owner of Honeydukes was glowering down at us, his crossed arms resting atop his rotund belly.

_Merlin's pants!_ —I thought wildly— _We're going to be expelled!_ Why did I allow Sirius to talk me into coming on this stupid trip? Why hadn't I gone to the library as I'd planned? I could be happily engrossed in my Ancient Runes homework right now. I don't break school rules like this! Well, at least not on the first day of lessons. What am I going to do? I don't have anywhere to _go._ I'm going to end up living on the filthy streets of Knockturn Alley, begging for coin. Oh Christ almighty, I'm going to have to become a two-knut prostitute in some sleazy wizarding brothel, aren't I? _Oh my_ _ **God.**_

I was ripped from my frantic silent panicking by a booming laugh ringing throughout the cellar. The man's demeanor had done a drastic one-eighty, and rather than reprimanding us for sneaking into his shop, he was _chuckling._ "That time of year already, Sirius? Merlin's beard, I swear you were just here a few weeks ago for the end of term! How are you, my boy?" The man continued to chuckle as he held out his hand. Sirius grinned widely and finished the climb to the landing.

Sirius shook the owner's hand vigorously and they both continued into the shop. I hurried up the stairs to join them. "Ambrosius! Great to see you, old chap," Sirius replied animatedly, still grinning that stupid grin. He sent me a sly wink as I stood next to him behind the counter of Honeydukes.

_Merlin's bollocks, Bellatrix won't even get the chance to off the son of bitch,_ I thought furiously. _That pleasure will go to me._

"So how much will you be needing this time?" Ambrosius asked lightly as he returned to the till and began counting the Acid Pops a young boy had placed on the counter.

"Just the usual variety," Sirius replied with an airy wave of his hand as he leaned casually against the counter. "We'll pick up the lot on our way back through."

"Oh-ho, and who is this lovely young witch?" Ambrosius asked genially as he handed the boy his bag of sweets. It seemed he'd finally noticed that Sirius had an accomplice in his breaking-and-entering.

I did my best to hide my present state of fury, adjusting my expression to one I hoped was polite. "Hermione Granger, sir," I answered in a saccharine tone. "Nice to meet you."

Sirius looked as if he were on the verge of cracking a rib as he struggled to stifle his laughter. "We'd best be off now!" he said quickly before Ambrosius could respond. "Be back in a bit!" He then grabbed my hand abruptly, pulling me along behind him as we hastily departed the shop.

As the door of Honeydukes closed behind us, Sirius bent over double, roaring with laughter. I waited patiently for him to finish with my arms folded across my chest and my expression stern. "Sorry, love," he gasped, finally standing upright and wiping the corners of his eyes. "Honestly, the look on your face—I had to do it."

"I'm sure you did," I replied, deadpan. He finally forced his face to become apologetic, but I wasn't swayed.

"So is this how you treat the new girl?" I asked with an utterly gutted whimper, my face contorting with hurt. "Practical jokes, humiliation—a right riot, I'm sure." My voice grew higher as I finished and I sniffled as tears filled my downcast eyes.

Sirius was suddenly very alarmed. "No, of course not," he said worriedly as he rushed to stand in front of me and used a crooked finger to raise my chin. "Merlin, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

But I couldn't keep it going. It was now _my_ turn to burst into giggles, leaning back against the wall of the building for support as tears of laughter left my eyes. His face rapidly cycled through expressions of remorse, confusion, and then finally to one of understanding. He began laughing too.

"Oh, Merlin help us all," he said through his laughter. "That's the second time you've pranked a Marauder." He threw an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to his side. "A bloody good one, too."

I shrugged and slid an arm around his waist companionably as we turned to make our way down the High Street of Hogsmeade. "I figured it was the only way to teach you not to prank me in the future," I replied with a sly grin. "Where to now?"

"The Three Broomsticks," he said as we approached the door of Madam Rosmerta's pub. "You must be hungry, right?"

"Starving, actually."

* * *

We slid atop the tall stools at the back bar of crowded pub, and Sirius flirted brazenly with Madam Rosmerta as I waited to order my late lunch. The younger Rosmerta was even more attractive than I remembered. As I compared her to her future counterpart, I had to admit that the years had been exceptionally kind to her. I could hardly blame Ron for his boyhood crush on the curvy barmaid.

"Don't have much time today, Rosy," Sirius said cheerfully to the witch as she leaned across the bar, her ample bosom threatening to escape from her low-cut robes. "We're just here for a quick bite and to pick up a few kegs of Butterbeer and a case of Firewhiskey. So I'll take—" he paused, tapping a finger on the counter as he considered. "I'll just have the fish and chips."

Rosmerta removed a long peacock-feather quill from her mess of curly hair and jotted down Sirius's order. "You know, you can just say 'the usual', Sirius," she replied without looking up. "I know your order better than my own mum's. Two fingers of Ogden's will be out in a jiff, too." She then turned to me, giving me a once over as if judging whether I was pretty enough to be out with _Sirius Black_. "And I don't think we've met before," she said, holding out a pink finger-nailed hand to me in greeting. "I'm Rosmerta."

Being introduced to people I've known for years was becoming quite tiresome.

"Oh bugger, I forgot," said Sirius apologetically. He gestured to me. "Rosy, this is Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Rosmerta—her mulled mead is the best in Britain." I shook her hand with a smile and her eyebrows rose into her hairline at the introduction.

"Granger, is it?" she asked in surprise, staring at me intently. "You must be Ab's daughter. You're the right talk of the town at the mo'. The whole pub's been dying to meet the long-lost Dumbledore."

"Yep, that's me," I replied wearily—is this the kind of reception I'm going to get _everywhere?_ "But let's save the big announcement for another time, yeah?"

She gave a hearty laugh. "I don't blame you, hon'," she said with a wink, and with a quick suck on the end of her quill, she added, "So what'll it be this afternoon?"

I glanced over the distinctly sticky pub menu propped open in front of us, even though I already knew it by heart. "I'll have the Cornish Pasties, please," I answered after a moment of plausible deliberation. "Uncle Albus simply raves about them."

_You're getting damn good at faking it, Hermione._

I wasn't so sure that was a good thing.

"Oh Merlin, those certainly are Albus's favorite," she said with another chuckle. "And to drink?"

"Just a Butterbeer," I replied, and with a quick nod, she disappeared through the swinging door to the kitchens.

"Thank you for this," I said quietly, turning to Sirius when we were alone again. "For this little adventure or whatever. I'm not generally what you'd call a rule-breaker, but I needed an escape from the castle this afternoon."

"I thought you might," he replied, then added with a grin, "and I needed an accomplice to help smuggle dodgy cauldrons, so it's a win-win for us both."

I knew that he understood my gratitude, and I appreciated his jest. After seven years of having two clueless boys as best friends, I wasn't exactly the best at discussing feelings. Exhibit A—my relationship with Ron.

Madam Rosmerta returned, sliding our beverages across the bar. Thankful for something to do with my hands, I took a long swig of Butterbeer. Not as good as Firewhiskey, but I enjoyed how it warmed my body from the inside out. As I placed the mug on the counter, I said aloud, "God, it's been _ages_ since I've had Butterbeer. Not since—"

— _Grimmauld Place. The night Remus offered to accompany us on the Horcrux hunt and Harry accused him of cowardice._

"Well, it's been way too long," I finished hastily, bringing the mug back to my lips.

"Oh come on, Granger," said Sirius with a small nudge. "We're here to pre-game for tonight's party. You can't start off with _Butterbeer."_

"I most certainly can," I replied, my tongue darting out to lick the foam from my lips. "And I don't plan on getting—what was it that you said?—oh right, _thoroughly pissed_ tonight, either."

"You may say that now," said Sirius, leaning back on his barstool and giving me a knowing look. "But you've never been to a Marauders party before. Even Evans has been known to pass out behind the Common Room sofa after an especially rowdy evening."

"I find that very hard to believe," I scoffed, turning to him and placing my feet on the bottom rung of his stool.

Sirius shook his head and leaned closer. "Just you wait, kitten," he replied, eyes dancing with mischief. "Before the night's out we'll have you with a Hufflepuff tie around your pretty head, dancing on a table to the Hobgoblins."

* * *

**GTTN Bonus:**

* * *

  **2 November 1993 — The Flat Over Honeydukes — First Strand of Time**

* * *

"Ambrosius, I simply don't understand why you won't tell the Aurors. Black _knows_ about the trapdoor—he used it for years! He could've used it two nights ago to break into Hogwarts!"

Ambrosius Flume sighed heavily and looked up from his supper of spaghetti bolognese. Across the table, his wife was sitting with her arms crossed over her chest, a pleading look in her eyes. He set his fork down onto his plate with a clang.

"Isobel," he replied, voice kind as though speaking to a child. "I've already told you why I won't."

"Oh, so you're still sticking with that old line?" she said with a disbelieving snort. "You expect me to believe that the Ministry tossed an innocent man into Azkaban, leaving him to the Dementors for _twelve years?_ He killed little Peter Pettigrew and those twelve Muggles, and stood there laughing while he waited for the Aurors to cart him off! You saw the _Prophet_ , Amb," she continued exasperatedly. "He was a follower of You-Know-Who! How else could he have escaped Azkaban without the help of dark magic?"

Ambrosius heaved another great sigh. "I just don't believe it, Izzy," he replied patiently. He removed his thick spectacles and buffed them slowly on the sleeve of his robes. "I didn't buy the Ministry's version of it twelve years ago and I don't buy it now. I knew the boy, almost as well as my own sons. There's no way he would have gone dark, just no way at all. There's got to be more to the story—"

"There is no more to the story!" she interrupted shrilly. Ambrosius returned his glasses to his nose and leaned back in his chair as he waited for her to finish. "Why else would we be trapped in here every day at nightfall?" She gestured wildly around the small kitchen of the flat they shared above their shop. "The Dementors are searching for him for a _reason_. He's dangerous!"

"No," said Ambrosius firmly. "I refuse to believe it, and I will not have those goons from the Ministry going over my shop with a fine-toothed comb. We would never get a second of peace if they knew about that tunnel." Isobel opened her mouth to protest, but he continued. “Besides, we’d hear if the shop were broken into. I myself cast Intruder Charms on both entrances and we have Sneakoscopes in every room.” He pointed to the tiny dark detector poised on the kitchen counter next to the kettle. It was perfectly still, balanced on its pointed tip.

"But, Ambrosius—"

"No," he said again, slamming his fist on the wooden table as his temper was tested. "That's the end of it, Izzy. Let it go."

Isobel gave an indignant huff as she threw back her chair from the table. She silently gathered her dishes, meal uneaten. She tossed the full plate into the sink haphazardly, red sauce splattering onto the floor, and swept from the room without another word.

Ambrosius pushed back his own chair, crossed the shadowy kitchen, and fetched a large bottle of brandy from the cupboard. He poured a tall glass and sank tiredly back into his seat. As a Dementor swooped past the kitchen window, he took a long sip, thinking sadly of the young lad he'd known all those years ago.

* * *

 


	11. Circle of Hell

* * *

**Chapter 11: Circle of Hell**

* * *

Ron and Hermione seemed a long way away, in a far-off country; he felt as though he had parted from them long ago. There would be no good-byes and no explanations, he was determined of that. This was a journey they could not take together.  
_— Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows,_ J.K. Rowling

* * *

When I returned to the Gryffindor common room later that afternoon, James and Peter were already beginning to set up for the night's events. Peter was wobbling on a wooden chair in front of the stone fireplace, stretching to hang a large scarlet banner across the mantle that read _"Welcome The Hell Back."_ It appeared to be drawn by hand, and I was curious as to who had done it. It was surprisingly good, with impressive block script and animated roaring lions in each corner. A group of third years—evidently jealous that they weren't permitted to attend tonight—were glaring sullenly at James, who was near the door leading to the tower's balcony, erecting two long tables with his wand.

"You know, James," I said as I heaved a large crate of Firewhiskey—cleverly disguised as bottles of pumpkin juice—onto the newly assembled drinks table. "As Head Boy, isn't your job more to break up parties rather than throw them?"

James ceased loading the other table with snacks, courtesy of the Hogwarts house elves, and glanced up. "Well if it isn't our feisty little dueling champion!" he called with bravado. "We were wondering where you'd gotten off to." He pushed aside the crate and hopped up to sit on the table in front of me. "So tell me, where did you learn to fight like such a hellcat?"

My face flushed pink, but I grinned at him. I'd decided on the journey back from Hogsmeade that I shouldn't allow this to become a big deal. I was simply going to take it all in stride—or, at least, try to. Completely knackered from the long walk back, I sank into one of the nearby armchairs, tucking my legs neatly beneath me. "I had a friend back home who was an incredible duelist," I replied with a shrug. "He taught me."

"He must have been bloody amazing then," said James, shaking his head in disbelief.

My grin broadened. "Oh trust me, he was brilliant."

— _he was also your son, but I'm not allowed to talk about that yet._

"Anyway, Dumbledore knew what he was getting into when he appointed a Marauder to the position," said James, answering my original question airily. "Personally, I think he secretly enjoys our pranking and partying. Keeps his job interesting."

He had a point. "With Uncle Albus, you probably aren't far off."

"So where have you been all afternoon?" James asked conversationally as he slid off the tabletop. He began to unload the crate I'd just delivered, lining up the many bottles of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey across the table. I wondered if he'd checked the Marauder's Map and noticed my tiny ink dot was missing, along with Sirius's.

"Helping me smuggle the goods into the castle, obviously," Sirius answered for me as he joined us. He was carrying a keg of Butterbeer over his shoulder and levitating a second in front of him. "If her career as a Master Duelist falls through, I think she might have a shot at black-market potions trafficking."

I hummed thoughtfully as if considering it. "Who says I can't do both?" I asked with a shrug. "A witch of many talents and whatnot."

"I'll drink to that," said James with a wink, raising a full glass of Firewhiskey in the air. "Cheers!" He drained it swiftly before slamming the glass on the table.

"Potter, are you seriously getting sloshed before the party's even begun?" Lily asked derisively as she approached from the direction of the girls' dormitories. She was still wearing her uniform, but I noticed that she had begun on her hair for the evening. Evidently these parties _were_ quite an important affair.

"Ah, but you can't drink all night if you don't start early, Lily-Pad," Sirius replied, voice full of sincerity as he opened a bottle of Ogden's to pour his own glass.

"Just a little drink, Evans," James said quickly. "Don't worry, I'll be sober enough later to keep an eye on the party."

Sirius snorted skeptically and Lily ignored him completely. "Hermione!" she said happily when she spotted me. _What happened to the suspicion I saw from her earlier?_ "I was hoping you'd be down here. Come on, you're late."

"Late?" I repeated. What was with these people and their intentional ambiguity?

"Follow me," she replied with a grin.

* * *

When I entered our dormitory, my immediate thought was that we'd been robbed. Clothing was strewn haphazardly about the room, shoes were scattered in nonsensical piles across the floor, and I even spotted a bra draped over the top of Mary's four-poster.

But then I noticed my other dorm-mates. Mary was peering at me through a vanity mirror where she sat in a dressing gown, styling her hair into ringlets with her wand. Alice was kneeling at the foot of her bed, rifling through her trunk, evidently in search of an elusive pair of heels. Marlene was once again clad solely in a matching set of knickers, lying on her stomach in the middle of the dorm, varnishing her fingernails a bright shade of red.

"Er—so this is what I was late for?" I asked, turning to Lily with a puzzled look.

"Yep," Lily replied with a grin. "Since it's your first Gryffindor party, we thought we'd help you get ready. First off, what are you planning to wear?"

I glanced down at my uniform. "This?"

Not only did I not have many outfits appropriate for 1977, but I also didn't exactly have any clothing in my beaded bag that screamed 'party time,' either. There wasn't much opportunity for drunken debauchery while hunting Horcruxes, after all. Although, that might've had its merits—Ron, a dark, cozy tent, a bottle of Merlot…

Oh God, I _am_ going insane—the tent smelled of cats. That's not the least bit sexy.

"Oh, fuck no," Marlene called from the floor. "There's no way in hell we'll allow you go to a Marauders' party in your _uniform."_

"I don't really have much else," I replied with an embarrassed shrug. "I packed pretty lightly when I traveled here."

_Not exactly a lie…_

"Well then you'll simply have to borrow from one of us!" said Lily brightly. "Here, I think we might be close in size. You may have to shrink what ever you find a bit—"

* * *

An hour or so later, I stood in front of Marlene's long mirror, rotating slowly as I admired their handiwork. After only minimal protesting on my part, we'd finally decided upon my attire for the evening—a black high-waisted Muggle skirt and a sleeveless lace blouse. It was a bit too revealing for my taste, but at least I had a chance to nip off to the loo to cast another Concealment Charm on my scarred arm. I had a feeling that Lily had been a tad heavy-handed with the Shrinking Charm on the blouse, but after many warnings of, _"Just let us work our magic, Hermione,"_ I learnt not to vocalize my complaints.

Mary, who apparently had a knack for beauty charms, had spelled and potioned my hair into submission. The combination of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion and a useful little charm of her own creation was surprisingly effective, taming the bushy curls into smooth waves. I was grateful that she'd heeded my pleas to keep any makeup minimal. She seemed to quite skilled in the art of subtly, and I had no objections to the look she had chosen. However, nothing she tried would hide the tiny white lines peppering my face and chest. The Sands of Time refused to be concealed.

I had to admit that the overall effect was rather nice. I laughed to myself as I pictured the slack-jawed look on Ron's face, and probably Harry's too, if they were to see me now. I sat on the edge of my four-poster and slipped my feet into a pair of unnecessarily strappy wedges borrowed from Alice, waiting for the other girls to finish dressing.

"Did Ilvermorny have a lot of parties, Hermione?" Lily asked as she closed her tube of vibrant lipstick, finishing with a final smack of her lips.

I thought back to the parties during my first six years of Hogwarts and tried to alter my answer to fit what I knew of Ilvermorny. "Not really. We had some pretty great celebrations after Quodpot games and Quidditch matches, but that was basically it. I was never very into them, though."

"Why the fuck not?" Marlene asked, darkly-lined eyes wide as if I'd just committed blasphemy.

My mind flashed to sixth year—seeing Ron wrapped around Lavender-fucking-Brown tighter than the vines of a Devil's Snare.

"My two best friends were on the Quidditch team, so I always attended when we won. But in our sixth year—" I shifted uncomfortably and pulled at the end of an uncharacteristically smooth curl. "One of them did something pretty awful at one of the parties, and after that, they lost all appeal."

"Say no more," said Alice as she helped Mary fasten the clasp of her necklace. "Boys can be total bellends at sixteen."

"How would you know, Ally?" asked Mary, turning to Alice skeptically. "Frank was always a right proper gentleman. A little too nice sometimes, in my opinion..."

"James Potter is a prime example, though," Lily added with a laugh. "Hasn't grown out of it either."

"Lily, I've said it once and I won't say it again," Marlene said a little harshly. "Well, I probably will, but I won't enjoy it. Cut the bullshit. You fancy James, no question."

Lily gave her an icy stare, but ignored the comment. "Ready, Hermione?" Lily asked as she gave her outfit one final inspection in the mirror. I nodded. "Alright, let's go."

Marlene muttered something that sounded like, _"Fucking typical,"_ under her breath, but followed nonetheless as we descended the spiral staircase to the common room. I guessed that we were fashionably late, because the party was already in full swing when we arrived. A spirited game of truth-or-dare was taking place near the portrait hole, and a group of young wizards were taking flaming shots of Firewhiskey over a game of Exploding Snap next to my favorite squashy armchair.

As I watched the party-goers, all carefree and reveling in merriment, the startling reality of my present situation crashed over me with a visceral, earth-shattering clarity. My eyes began to shift in and out of focus. The metaphorical wound in my chest gaped open.

I was at a fucking _party._ After years of battling dark wizards… months of evading capture in that wretched tent, scarcely living, stealing to assuage the pangs of hunger, scavenging for sustenance to merely survive… after _destroying a piece of Lord Voldemort's fucking soul with my own hands—_ after committing _murder,_ actually incanting the Killing Curse—I was now… attending a party? In the Gryffindor common room? With heels on my feet and rouge on my still-sunken cheeks? Did I commit some barbaric, unforgivable sin in a previous life to be damned to _this?_ Was 1977 my own personal circle of hell?

Bile bubbled from my writhing stomach, searing my throat, coating my tongue.

_I don't belong here._

The fabric of Lily's borrowed skirt, which just moments ago was soft as silk, now felt rough as sandpaper as it brushed against my thighs.

My life was a fabrication. My existence was due to a mere technicality. Even the breath currently filling my lungs, flooding my tissues with oxygen, was fraudulent. My body was meant to be decaying beneath the earth in a mass grave, left unceremoniously to molder alongside everyone I loved. Was it fate or chance or pure luck that my heart continued to bound inside my chest?

Guilt prickled in the form of goose-pimples across every inch of my skin.

_I shouldn't be alive._

"I'm going to fetch a drink," I muttered to no one in particular. I crossed the common room in a haze, no cognizant destination in mind. I wasn't aware that I had exited to the tower's balcony until my hands were gripping the stone balustrade for support. I gazed down at the dark, peaceful grounds of Hogwarts, gasping as I rapidly blinked away images of the battle I had fought there a literal lifetime ago.

_What would Harry say if he saw me now?_

The familiar voice of my best friend echoed inside my muddled brain as if across a long distance—

" _I existed because of a mere technicality too. I know you think you've failed, but bloody hell, Hermione, you've been given an opportunity to set the world right again."_

I squeezed my eyes shut and laughed aloud at the horrible cliché of it all. But the queer Harry-voice inside my head had a point. Harry survived the Killing Curse as a toddler due to ancient and obscure magic that Voldemort underestimated, and here I was, in a very similar circumstance.

_My own insane circle of hell._

The door to the balcony opened behind me. My muscles tensed, but I couldn't muster the energy to leap into action as my instinct screamed. I simply waited until the visitor was leaning against the railing beside me before I finally opened my bloodshot eyes.

It was Remus.

_Compose yourself, Hermione. He probably already thinks you're batty. Don't make it worse._

"You looked like you might need a drink," he said casually, offering me a glass of amber liquid.

I took a steadying breath. "You have no idea," I replied, accepting the glass and forcing a small smile. I gave him a quick once over, both looking for a distraction and curious as to what 1977 meant for men's attire. He was wearing a pair of trousers that were absurdly tight in the bum. I averted my eyes quickly, scolding myself for checking out my future professor's arse.

"Let's sit." He grasped my free hand and led me to a set of wooden Muggle patio furniture in the far corner of the balcony. The chairs were brightly colored and looked as if they belonged on a beach in Brighton rather than at Hogwarts. Those certainly hadn't made it to the 1990s. I raised my eyebrows as he gestured for me to sit.

"Ah, the Muggle beach chairs," said Remus as I sank in the nearest Adirondack chair, leaning back and gripping my glass tightly with both hands. "Peter's idea. He brought the lot back after his family went on holiday to the south of France. Said he thought they'd liven the place up, so he and James snuck them into the castle after Easter of our fifth year." He sat in the salmon-colored chair next to mine, and we sipped our drinks in companionable silence for a few minutes.

"You're probably wondering where I learned to duel, right?" I asked abruptly, breaking the silence. "Like everyone else, I'm sure."

I grimaced at my accusatory tone.

_So much for 'taking it all in stride.'_

"Well of course I'm curious," Remus responded evenly, "but I wasn't going to ask."

I looked at him in surprise. "You weren't?"

He took another casual sip of his Firewhiskey. "Nope. You'd share if you wanted me to know."

"Oh."

I brought my glass to my lips once more, taking a large gulp. This time the Firewhiskey burned as it slid down my throat.

"Everyone is entitled to their secrets," he replied simply, and I knew he was thinking of his own. We were silent a moment longer.

“I had really great teachers,” I said finally, my voice soft. “One was my best friend since our first year. He had this…” I smiled faintly as I thought of Harry. _“Innate_ ability when it came to dueling. The other was my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in my third year.” I glanced at Remus, who was sipping his drink and watching me as I spoke. “But more importantly, he was a friend as well.”

— _he was you, Professor R.J. Lupin._

"He only taught for a year?" asked Remus curiously. "That sounds like something that would happen at Hogwarts. No D.A.D.A. professor has lasted longer than a year in decades, I think."

"He had a secret," I replied, trying to decide how to carefully word this half-truth. I sensed Remus stiffen at the mention of the word _secret_ once again _._ "It was a dangerous secret, but he always made sure to take…" I licked my lips, tasting the trace of whiskey. "Certain precautions. I worked it out, but I knew my professor—he was one of the kindest, most brave men I'd ever met—so I kept it for him. But someone else didn't." I shook my head sadly. "It was a horrible thing, really. He was the best professor we'd ever had."

Remus sipped his drink silently for a moment as he mulled over my words. "But, if whatever he was hiding was such a danger," he said slowly, "don't you think it was actually a good idea for him to leave? Better for everyone?"

"Absolutely not," I said firmly, fixing my eyes upon his. "He wasn't dangerous, and that was all that mattered." A spark of gold flashed across his dark green eyes as he stared at me—a flicker of the wolf inside I knew he tried so desperately to repress. He looked away quickly, gazing out to the treetops of the Forbidden Forest.

I drained my glass. The heated effects of Firewhiskey had begun to spread throughout my body, leaving behind a pleasant lightness in my extremities, loosening my tense muscles.

"Got anymore?" I asked, raising my empty glass.

He grinned and nodded, likely grateful for the change in conversation. He pointed his wand over his shoulder and a half-empty bottle soared to him from another table.

"I came prepared," he said, answering my questioning look. He refilled both of our glasses and raised his into the air. I toasted mine to his with a clink.

"Cheers, Remus." We both took a sip, and sank back into our chairs. "So the whole school likely thinks I'm mental now, right?" I asked, looking over to him. "I mean, not only am I the strange new girl, but after that dueling match…"

"Nah," he replied, shaking his head and smiling. "They're all just happy someone was able to out-duel Severus. If you looked like a troll, they'd probably think you're weird as fuck. But seeing as you don't, everyone is still fascinated."

I laughed. Professor Lupin did always know the right thing to say, even if his language was a bit more colorful in his youth. "Well at least I have that going for me."

"So did the Firewhiskey help any?" he asked, inspecting me carefully. I wasn't sure what I'd done to warrant his concern. He barely knew me, after all, and certainly not as well as I knew him.

I nodded. "The conversation wasn't half bad either." I really did feel much better. I wasn't sure if it was the effect of the drink or simply Remus's comforting presence. I stood and gestured to the door leading to the common room. "Let's go back inside. I shouldn't keep a Marauder from his own party."

He rose from his chair and followed me across the stone balcony. "Nah, the company was worth it," he replied, opening the door and placing a hand lightly on the small of my back as we both reentered the common room. I breathed deeply as music and laughter filled my ears, and I reminded myself of Dumbledore's advice.

_Just live your life, Hermione._

I repeated this mantra over and over in my head as I glanced around the room. I spotted Lily and Mary on the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the common room, twirling and shaking to a song by Elton John. Alice was situated beside an old gramophone, flipping through a stack of records and tapping her foot along to the beat. Witches and wizards in the seventies seemed to enjoy Muggle music just as much as what played on the Wizarding Wireless Network. Peter was behind the drinks table, animatedly preparing cocktails for a group of eager fifth year girls.

Remus and I continued across the room to join James, who we found lounging on the sofa in front of the common room fire. There was a very pretty girl perched in his lap, who I assumed was his Ravenclaw girlfriend, Delia. She had long, sleek blonde hair and was laughing along with James, who appeared to be telling a story.

"—and we've kept the title ever since. A goddamn badge of honor." James finished as we approached. Remus settled into the sofa next to James, and I balanced on the arm closest to Remus.

"Are you telling that damn story again?" asked Remus as he reached down and scooped up a bottle of Ogden's that was rolling across the rug near his feet. "It's not even that interesting." He topped off my drink before refilling his own.

"People always ask!" James replied indignantly.

"What story?" I asked curiously between sips.

James shot Remus a smug look. "See?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "The story of how we were deemed 'The Marauders.' It's not all that exciting, really." He shook his head as James opened his mouth to protest. "It came from McGonagall in our second year. She gave us this long, dull speech reprimanding us for wandering around after-hours and 'marauding about the castle.' Sirius thought it was hilarious, so the name stuck."

"Why do you always have to tell the boring version?" James grumbled, and Delia gave a tinkling laugh.

"Well, 'The Marauders' does have a better ring to it than "The Nighttime Wanderers', _"_ I said reasonably.

"I like having you around, Granger," said James as they all laughed. "You're going to fit in nicely." Delia gave him a pointed look. For a moment, he looked bewildered before comprehension dawned. "Oh, sorry, I'm shit at introductions. Hermione, this is Cordelia Fawley."

Delia reached across the two wizards to shake my hand politely. "Nice to finally meet you, Hermione. I'm Delia, this git's girlfriend." She gave James a playful shove, and James went red as he realized he'd forgotten the 'girlfriend' portion of the introduction. Delia and I exchanged pleasantries over a few more refills before we were interrupted.

"Has anyone seen Marlene?" asked Mary, slurring a little. She and Lily had just collapsed into the sofa across from us, both breathless from dancing.

"She disappeared with Sirius ages ago," Delia answered, eyebrows wiggling with the implication. As Delia spoke, Lily's eyes flashed, but she quickly turned away, kicking off a shoe and becoming a little too interested in rubbing the arch of her sore foot.

"Yeah, I'm locked out of my own bloody dormitory just so he can get a leg over," James added, sounding miffed.

"Ah, fuck 'em," Mary replied, waving her hands wildly.

"Actually, I think they're already doing that," said Remus fairly. Everyone laughed but Lily and me.

"And she said _I_ was typical…" Lily grumbled under her breath.

"What was that, Evans?" asked James, shifting his girlfriend slightly to look at Lily. Delia looked disgruntled, and Lily ignored him.

Mary twisted around suddenly in her seat, hopping to her knees to lean over the back of the sofa. Her dress remained bunched around her hips, revealing her lacy undergarments. "ALICE!" she cried loudly across the common room with a drunken whistle. "AL-LAAAAAY! Get your mopey arse over here!"

"Nice knickers, McDonald," drawled a familiar voice. I turned to see Sirius and Marlene standing behind us, clothing disheveled. Sirius was attempting to flatten his hair, which was sticking out at odd angles. Marlene adjusted her rumpled skirt before placing two fingers between her lips and letting out a shrill wolf-whistle.

Mary didn't respond, instead choosing to send Sirius and Marlene a rude hand gesture over her shoulder before she shimmied her dress to its proper position. Alice, who had been sliding a fresh vinyl onto the record player, glanced up with a resigned expression. She gave a small sigh before placing the needle and crossing the room to join us. Sirius plopped onto the floor and leaned against the end of sofa beside Lily's feet. Marlene snuggled into his lap.

"Yes?" Alice asked Mary with forced patience.

"You do know you're at a party, right?" questioned Mary. "I know Frank graduated and you're absolutely heartbroken over the dreadful loss of your snogging partner, but you don't have to be such a wet blanket."

Alice looked annoyed. "Someone has to handle the music," she replied, gesturing to the pile of records she'd just left behind. Mary rolled her eyes and flopped back into her seat.

Something between a tut and a scoff came from Marlene. "Did all of my friends turn into the Bullshit Brigade, and I missed the memo? First Lily and now Ally…"

Alice rolled her eyes. "Don't get me started on bullshit, Marly." She gave Marlene a significant look, but Marlene simply glared defiantly. Sirius smirked and whispered something into Marlene's ear. She laughed in response and shoved him playfully in the chest, followed by a kiss on his cheek.

I'd had enough.

Murmuring something about Cauldron Cakes, I left my spot on the sofa. I wasn't sure what it was exactly, but seeing Marlene and Sirius together left an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Maybe I was remembering the Sirius I'd known— _my_ Sirius—and how he'd been trapped in that wretched house, utterly alone, ensconced in a perpetual state of misery for an entire year. Not quite Azkaban, but still a prison nonetheless. I recalled the letter from Lily that Harry had discovered in Sirius's forgotten bedroom of Grimmauld Place.

— _but that was probably the news about the McKinnons; I cried all evening when I heard—_

If Marlene had lived to see the end of the war, would Sirius have ended up Azkaban? Would it have made a difference if there had been someone on the outside to advocate his innocence? Or maybe I was envious because I'd lost all hope of having that sort of intimacy with Ron—or anyone, for that matter. I was a displaced witch, lost in a time that wasn't my own. With the task that lay before me, I knew it would be utterly irresponsible to become romantically involved. I was a danger.

Or, if I was honest with myself, was it all of that, plus more? Did I simply yearn for affection or did I want that closeness with one wizard in particular? I shook my head jerkily as I reached the reached the queue for the drinks table.

_Your brain has been addled by torture. You shouldn't entertain inappropriate thoughts about your best friend's dead godfather._

I looked up and found myself facing Peter. He was still mixing drinks, a Muggle cocktail shaker in his hand, when he noticed me behind a group of sixth years. He waved me over with a lopsided grin. His cheeks were ruddy from the alcohol and the top buttons of his collared shirt were undone.

"Hermione! I was hoping you'd come. Need another drink?" he asked, gesturing to the empty glass in my hand. The sixth year girls behind me in the queue glared, but Peter didn't seem to notice. "I'm trying out something new. I'm thinking of calling it 'The Demiguise in Disguise'."

I couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. He just looked so _happy_. How had this boy become Voldemort's most cowardly follower? He was so full of life tonight and it was almost impossible to think of the two versions of Wormtail as the same wizard.

"And why is that?" I asked, eyeing the cocktail shaker.

He pushed up his sleeves a bit more and his grin grew wider. "Ah, but that would be telling, wouldn't it?"

I raised my eyebrows.

He laughed and lowered his voice. "It's because you don't see it coming until it hits you." He opened the shaker and poured me a glass, sloshing a bit of the vividly blue liquid over the edge.

I took a sip and immediately spluttered as the harsh burn hit the back of my throat. "What on earth is in that?" I asked, coughing.

He laughed even harder. "Muggle booze. Something my dad called tequila, mixed with a bit of this, a dash of that…" He motioned to my drink. "Go on, the second sip is easier."

I gingerly brought the glass to my lips again. The second swallow was actually more palatable. I licked my lips. There was a tart sweetness behind the strong bite.

"See?" he said as he poured a round of shots for a rowdy gang of sixth year boys.

"Not half bad. Strong, though."

He took a sip of his own and nodded. "That it is. Enjoying the party so far?"

"I suppose," I answered with a shrug. "I've never been one for drinking and dancing."

"Me either," he said. "I actually loathed these things until last year."

I looked at him in surprise. "Really? But you look like you're having such a great time tonight."

He shrugged. "I learned to make my own fun. I always do the decorations." He pointed to the banner tacked over the fireplace. "And I discovered that I belong behind the bar rather than on the dance floor."

"Wow, you drew that?" I asked in awe. "It's incredible."

He flushed at the compliment and rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks, I guess," he said modestly. "James charmed the lions to roar."

"No need to be bashful, Wormy," said Sirius as he appeared behind the table and gave Peter a clap on the back. "We all know you're damn good with a quill."

Peter mumbled incoherently under his breath and turned to take another drink request. Sirius gave me a quick once over, eyes landing on the vibrant cocktail in my hand.

"I see you're on the path to thoroughly pissed?"

My face pinked, but I knew he was right. I'd never had this much to drink before, and I was feeling the effects. "Not exactly a Hufflepuff tie or a table dance."

"Baby steps, Granger," he said approvingly. He snatched up a Firewhiskey from the table and took a long swig straight from the bottle.

"Hermione, can I talk to you for a minute?" Lily was now beside me, sliding her arm into mine. She gave Sirius a disapproving look before she continued. "Out there." She jerked her head toward the balcony and steered me toward the door before I could respond.

"See ya later, Snuffles," I called over my shoulder to Sirius. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and I grimaced as I realized my mistake.

_Damn you, Firewhiskey._

However, it was too late for me to do anything about it, so I simply allowed Lily to lead me past a few pairs of snogging couples to the seats Remus and I had occupied earlier.

"What's up, Lily?" I asked when we were both settled. Her eyes were glazed over and I could smell the Firewhiskey on her breath. She opened her small handbag and withdrew a silver cigarette case. She placed one between her red-stained lips, lighting it with her tip of her wand. I raised my eyebrows as she took a long drag.

"Only when there's Firewhiskey involved," she said, answering my astonished look. "Marlene's fault. Want one?" She held out the small silver case, but I declined with a shake of my head. She shrugged and shut the case with a click before leaning back in her chair and exhaling smoke slowly from her lungs. She was silent for a moment and seemed to be a little confused, as if unsure how to articulate her thoughts. 

"I don't trust you," she blurted out finally.

Although I'd expected something like this after seeing her suspicious expression earlier today, her words stung more than I anticipated. I knew the hurt displayed on my face.

"It's nothing personal," she continued, slurring slightly. "It was really kind of you to offer to duel Severus today. I know you noticed that things are—" She paused, pursing her lips. "Strained between the two of us. But I know Sev, and I know what he's capable of." She brought the Muggle fag back to her lips before she finished. "You beat him."

"And that makes me untrustworthy?"

She shook her head. "It's not just that. You appear out of nowhere as a seventh year transfer. You claim Professor Dumbledore is your uncle, and yet no one has ever heard of you. You're covered in scars and act as if you've been through something traumatic. And then that duel…" She gave me a hard stare. "You fight like you've been in battle before or something."

I didn't know what to say, because she was absolutely right. I toyed with the hem of my skirt.

"You can't fault me for being suspicious," she said when I didn't reply. "I'm a Muggle-born. There's an organization forming out there that is willing to start a war over my very existence."

_Mine too, Lily._

Bellatrix's cruel voice echoed inside my head, and for a moment, I was transported back to the cold floor of the drawing room in Malfoy Manor.

_"You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! Tell the truth!"_

"I don't blame you for not trusting me," I said quietly. She looked over in surprise. "No, honestly, I understand. I wouldn't trust me either. And you're right," I squeezed my eyes shut and saw the scarlet eyes of Tom Riddle gleaming behind my lids. "I've been through something horrible. Something I can't talk about yet."

I opened my eyes and saw her forehead wrinkled skeptically at my cryptic reply. I sighed heavily. I've only been here a few days, and I'm already failing in my mission. How am I supposed to save them if they don't trust me? I looked over my shoulder, glancing around the balcony. It was vacant except for an entwined couple shadowed in a far corner.

I knew the only way I could gain her trust.

"You were right not to trust me because I haven't been completely honest," I whispered into the still night. She leaned closer. "I'm not related to Dumbledore by blood. I was adopted into his family."

Her eyebrows rose and her mouth opened in surprise.

Praying I wouldn't regret this in the morning, I pushed up the hem of my skirt and withdrew my wand from the holster fastened around my thigh. I tapped it lightly to the inside of my left forearm, muttering the appropriate counter-charm.

_**Mudblood.** _

"I'm a Muggle-born too, Lils," I said, using her nickname softly.

The cigarette fell from her fingers and extinguished as it hit the stone ground. We both stared down at the degrading slur carved into my arm. The red lines of the scar had taken on a faintly purple tinge. Shock and revulsion colored her face when she finally looked up at me, tears clouding her green eyes. She seemed completely sober now, though possibly on the verge of vomiting.

"Dear God," she said in a strangled whisper. "Who—what… but why? Who would do such a vile thing?"

I shook my head, averting my gaze to the star-strewn sky above us, and tapped my wand to my arm again. The abhorrent word dissolved into seemingly undamaged flesh as the Concealment Charm was replaced. "For the safety of us both, I can't tell you any more than that right now. I know it’s not much, but can you trust me? The Dumbledore family took me in for my own protection. I'm hated and hunted just as much as you."

She looked directly into my eyes as she contemplated my words. "I think so," she said finally. "This is just…" 

"Insane?” I supplied with a hollow laugh as her voice trailed away. “Believe me, I know. But do you think we could keep this between us? I can't even fathom what would happen if word were to spread."

She considered for a beat. "Of course," she answered, placing a hand gently on my forearm. "Will you be able to explain more at some point in the future? I trust you, but..."

_The future._

"I hope so," I replied. "I hope I'll be able to explain everything one day."

She nodded slowly as she stood, motioning for me to join her. The moment I was fully righted, she reached forward and wrapped her arms around me. I was startled, flinching slightly at the affection, but I returned her embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," she whispered as she hugged me tightly. When she pulled away, she grasped my hand. "The party is probably almost over. We should go back inside."

I glanced down at Harry's watch—it was almost half past one.

The moment the door of the balcony closed behind us, Lily and I both froze. The record player was scratching lightly, but otherwise, the room was silent. Professor McGonagall was standing in front of the opened portrait hole, surveying the common room sternly. I glanced around, but there wasn't a single bottle of alcohol in sight. However, there seemed to be many more glasses of Butterbeer and bottles pumpkin juice than I recalled. The Marauders were apparently very skilled at hiding the evidence.

"Bed!" McGonagall called to the room as a whole. "Now!"

* * *

 


	12. A Displaced Witch's Guide

* * *

**Chapter 12: A Displaced Witch's Guide**

* * *

It was a pompous little sign, neatly lettered by hand, the sort of thing that Percy Weasley might have stuck on his bedroom door:  
**Do Not Enter**  
**Without the Express Permission of**  
**Regulus Arcturus Black**  
_—Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows,_ J.K. Rowling

* * *

**Pain.**

I awoke with a low groan, almost certain I'd been placed under the Cruciatus Curse again. I felt utterly _dreadful_ —like I'd been plowed over by the Knight Bus.I curled into a tight ball beneath my blanket as I mentally took inventory of the damage. My body ached and twinged all way to my fucking _bones_ , and my head pounded and rattled as if I'd had a bad encounter with a Bludger. My eyeballs felt dry and tight in their sockets. As I attempted to open my eyes, I noticed I'd neglected to draw the hangings of my four-poster. The light streaming through the open windows assaulted my vision with white-hot ferocity, forcing my eyelids shut. I tried to moisten my chapped lips, but my tongue felt like it was covered with fur. My mouth was parched and tasted acidically foul, causing my already queasy stomach to give an angry roll.

What fresh hell was this? Had I been tortured, then Obliviated?

But as I kneaded my fingertips to my pulsating temple, last night swam hazily to the forefront of my memory.

_Firewhiskey_. Many, many refills of Firewhiskey, plus a bit of Muggle alcohol, courtesy of Peter.

I was experiencing my first hangover.

_Fucking brilliant._

"Good morning, my lovely little rays of sunshine!" a shrill voice cried from the middle of the dormitory. "Up and at 'em!"

Four simultaneous moans of displeasure sounded throughout the room, including my own.

"Oh, come on," the voice, which I now recognized as Alice's, continued. "Just because you lot got pissed last night doesn't mean you can waste an entire Saturday. It's a beautiful day outside and it's already almost noon!"

I yanked my blanket over my head in an effort to soften her cheerful call, which was like a knife to my tender eardrums.

"Fuck off, Alice," said Marlene in a muffled voice. Evidently we'd had the same idea.

"Or at least close the bloody drapes," croaked Lily.

I heard the scraping sound of curtains being drawn and a sigh of relief from Lily. I guessed it was now safe to emerge from my dark refuge. I sat up gently, rubbing my eyes and letting the blanket fall away. I cracked my stiff neck as I glanced down and saw that I was still clad in my party attire. Apparently I'd been too knackered, or too intoxicated, to be bothered with pajamas. With a strangled gasp, I noticed that the charm on my arm had weakened and a faint trace of the horror I was concealing was visible. I scrambled frantically for my wand, finding it still securely holstered around my thigh, and cast the charm in a rush. I breathlessly looked around to see if my panic had been noticed.

It hadn't.

Thank Merlin. Everyone was too focused on their own woes to register anything strange. It seemed that no one had remembered to draw their hangings, or perhaps Alice had decided to open them all before we woke. Alice, fully dressed for the day, was sitting on the edge of Mary's bed, attempting to coax her from her slumber. Lily was leaning back against her headboard, bleary-eyed and also still in her dress from the night before. Marlene was sprawled face down on top of her bedclothes, completely nude except for a pillow covering her head.

"Expecting company, Mar?" Lily called in her best attempt at a drawl. "Sorry to disappoint, but you're not quite my type."

Marlene simply wiggled her naked bum and tossed the pillow in Lily's direction. Lily laughed weakly as Marlene sat up groggily, completely unabashed with her state of undress. Her face was smeared black with the charcoal that had lined her eyes and her blonde curls were matted to one side of her head. Reminded of my own, I reached up and felt not the sleek waves of the night before, but a bushy, tangled disaster. I ran my fingers through my hair but succeeded only in trapping my hand in the frizzy mess.

"I need a sodding shower," Marlene grumbled as she stumbled out of bed and off to the washroom.

Alice snorted. "Damn right you do. You all reek of sweat and booze."

Mary mumbled incoherently as she rolled out of bed as well, sheet still tangled around her. She lumbered through the door of the washroom, trailing her makeshift toga behind her. Alice rolled her eyes at the sight and muttered something about irresponsibility as she left for the common room.

"A shower. Not a bad idea," I agreed, throwing off my blanket and stretching my arms high over my head. Lily, who was already standing and slipping into her dressing gown, froze suddenly, eyes fixed unblinkingly upon the unblemished skin of my left forearm. My own eyes widened as the memory returned.

_I told Lily._

Well, not everything, but certainly more than I had intended to reveal this soon.

_Fuck._

I sank back into my pillows, covering my eyes with my hand. Shame prickled hotly at the back of my neck.

_I'm never drinking again._

I felt a weight shift beside me. "It's okay," Lily whispered into my ear. "I'm a fantastic secret-keeper." She placed a small, warm hand on the spot where she knew my scar was hidden.

I scrubbed my hand over my face and opened my eyes. Lily was sitting on the edge of my bed, staring down at me, green eyes shining with sincerity. I searched them for a moment before nodding, and she smiled kindly.

"Where did this come from?" Lily asked suddenly, voice returning to normal volume. I sat up and followed her gaze.

There was a large goblet of water on my bedside table, and alongside it sat a tiny vial of sunshine-yellow potion.

_That certainly wasn't there yesterday._

A corner of folded parchment was peaking out from beneath the base of the goblet. We both immediately turned and found the same items left for Lily as well. I slid the parchment from beneath the goblet and unfolded it.

It was a note, scratched out hastily, but in an elegant, angular script.

* * *

_Kitten,_

_I thought you might be in need of assistance this morning. The bottle contains_ _**James Potter's 'Tried and True, Never Fail, Better Than Any Hair-Of-The-Dog' Hangover Remedy,**_ _brought to you exclusively by The Marauders, with a special thanks to Slughorn's personal stores. Take the potion and chase it with a bit of water, and you'll be as bright-eyed as a Niffler in Gringotts._

_Don't worry, we've been using it for years and haven't died yet._

_See you later,_  
_SB_

A postscript had been added in a distinctly more untidy scrawl.

_In conjunction with James C. Potter, Potions Extraordinaire_

* * *

I laughed aloud when I reached the end and looked up from my note to see Lily gaping down at her own. She stared at it for a moment longer before wordlessly handing it over for me to read, and I passed her mine. She had a very similar letter from James, although the tone was a bit cockier.

"Well, this is unexpected," she said softly as we traded our notes back. We both glanced around to see if any little bottles had been left for the other girls, but it seemed we the only recipients. "Marlene won't be happy about this," she continued under her breath. "Better drink them quickly before she gets back."

I raised my eyebrows at her. "So you think these are safe?"

She chuckled quietly. "Potter may be an arsehat, but he's damn good at Potions. Not quite as good as me, but..."

I nodded, and we both tipped the opened vials into our mouths. The yellow liquid coated my tongue and tasted delightfully of pineapples. As I sipped from my goblet, a cool tingle washed over me, starting from the top of my head and descending slowly until it reached the tips of my extremities. The bass drum inside my skull ceased its cadence instantly and my gurgling stomach calmed. I even felt completely rehydrated.

"Wow," I breathed, standing finally and stretching my now pain-free body. "I feel perfectly fine now."

She agreed happily as she tucked the empty vial and note into a drawer. I did the same, but my eyes lingered on the folded bit of parchment. A swooping sensation tickled in my abdomen.

_It was just a kind gesture,_ I chastised myself sternly. _No need to get all of a dither._

* * *

It seemed that Alice had exaggerated the lateness of the hour when she roused us, because an hour later, it was a little past noon and all five seventh year girls were enjoying lunch in the Great Hall. Well, _enjoying_ might have been a bit of a stretch for some. I felt a tad guilty as I ate my ham and pea soup. Mary was resting her head on the table, banging her forehead periodically against the wood and ignoring all suggestions to eat. Marlene seemed to be in better shape, but was extremely grumpy, snapping at anyone that dared to speak to her. She was wearing her Quidditch training robes and grumbling under her breath at the audacity of scheduling practice on the first Saturday of term.

"Good morning," James said cheerfully as he slid onto the bench beside Lily. "Great to finally see you lovely witches." He was in his Quidditch kit, but his hair was already windswept, suggesting he'd been out for a morning fly.

"Thought we'd have a bit of a lie in," Lily replied with a smile. James seemed taken aback at first by the lack of her usual hostility, but quickly grinned back. The look in his eyes as he gazed down at the redhead displayed complete adoration.

_Yes! Progress on the Jily front!_

Or should it be 'Lames'?

I hid my smile behind a cup of tea, shaking my head at my mental one-liner.

"How are you on this fine Saturday?" Sirius asked. I started, not realizing he'd taken the seat beside me. He'd evidently been out flying with James, for he was also clad in his scarlet robes, long hair tied back and a sheen of sweat still on his brow.

Marlene looked up from her lunch, eyes blazing at Sirius. "Don't ask idiotic questions, Black," she replied through gritted teeth. She wrinkled her nose. "God, take a fucking shower. You smell like a wet dog."

Sirius gave his usual barking laugh, further accentuating his canine semblance, and poured a goblet of pumpkin juice. Suddenly, I felt a soft pinch on the side of my thigh, causing me to jump again. Sirius looked down at me with a conspiratorial smirk. "And you, Hermione?" he asked quietly as he leaned closer, warm breath tickling my ear.

How was it possible for his breath to always smell of spearmint?

I couldn't help but smile as the fluttery sensation in my stomach returned. "Not too bad, I suppose," I replied, unable to suppress a playful grin. "I don't really get hangovers." He looked extremely pleased as he gave me a quick wink and turned to begin his meal. I brought my cup of tea to my lips again, cursing my silly, misplaced hormones.

_He's already spoken for, you time-traveling slag._

* * *

I managed to escape to the library on my own after lunch. As much as I enjoyed the company of my new friends—were they friends?—it was ridiculously difficult to find a chance to slip off alone. Thankfully, Gryffindor's first Quidditch practice of the season was an opportune distraction, although I still felt guilty from the disappointed looks both James and Sirius had given when I said I wouldn't be able to make it today. Honestly, I didn't quite think I was up for it yet. I wasn't sure how to handle watching Gryffindor Quidditch without Harry or Ron on the pitch.

I found a table in the most sequestered corner of the library, shadowed between shelves pertaining to sixteenth century Goblin Rebellions, and formed a wall of stacked books to shield me from sight. I desperately needed to get my thoughts on parchment—a list of everything I needed to accomplish.

I began writing, brain whirling as ink flowed from the tip of my quill.

* * *

**A Displaced Witch's Guide to the 1970s:**

* * *

\- Convince DD to allow to join OOTP (v, v important)

\- DESTROY HORCRUXES: at present, 5?  
How - Basilisk venom (CoS), Fiendfyre (dangerous), similarly destructive method (but what?)

1\. TR's Diary - likely in possession of L Malfoy, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire

2\. Marvolo's Ring - Gaunt Shack, Little Hangleton; WARNING: DO NOT ATTEMPT TO WEAR - CURSED

3\. Slytherin's Locket - cave by the sea, when first placed there unknown; where TR tortured Muggle children from orphanage; defenses tested using Kreacher in 79; RAB v, v important; note - research mind-addling/torture potions

4\. Hufflepuff's Cup - likely in possession of B Lestrange (née Black), Lestrange Vault, Gringotts

5\. Ravenclaw's Diadem - Room of Hidden Things, RoR, Hogwarts; hidden by TR the night he requested DADA post; easiest to acquire (will retrieve soon)

NOT YET CREATED:  
6\. Nagini - snake, created in 94, murder of B Jorkins  
7\. Harry? - boy, accidentally created in 81, murder of L Potter (née Evans); scar?

**-** Kill TR, destroying last remaining fragment of soul; How - hell if I know. Get close enough to AK him? Leave it to DD?

\- Ensure P Pettigrew doesn't join DE; (never DE > never betrays Potters > Potters live > H has family); NEVER ALLOW TO BE SECRET-KEEPER

\- S Snape - almost certainly loyal to OOTP in 98 (insane plot concocted by DD?); Befriend? Prevent from joining DE?

\- R Black - (v, v complicated); betrays TR upon discovery of immortality plans after Kreacher's cave visit; death by Inferi in 79; Befriend? Track? Let die? (note - revisit this point later)

Deaths & Important Events:  
\- G+F Prewett - date unknown, five DE, Dolohov* (MINE)  
\- M McKinnon + family - family mentioned in letter by L Potter, ~31/07/81 (H 1st bday); M killed before family?  
\- Meadowes (first name?) - date unknown, murdered by TR himself (threat to TR?)  
\- Benjy (surname?) - "bits of him"  
\- C Dearborn - missing, never found  
\- E Bones + family - date unknown  
\- Prophecy - S Trelawney to DD > overheard by S Snape > relays to TR > Potters/Longbottoms  
\- J+L Potter - 31/10/81, Fidelius Charm, betrayed by PP  
\- 12 Muggles - murdered by PP  
\- Sirius Black - Azkaban 01/11/81; **INNOCENT**  
\- F+A Longbottom - tortured to insanity after Potter murders; R+B Lestrange, Rabastan L, Crouch Jr.

* * *

I sucked on the end of my quill as I contemplated the list. Certainly not comprehensive, but it was more than enough for a good start. I had to admit that there was a good bit of guesswork involved, and many details were fuzzy at best. Much of the information was gleaned from snippets of conversations I'd overheard throughout the years. When the timing was right, I was unashamedly skilled at covert eavesdropping, something that perhaps only Ron had ever noticed. I suppose it arose from my aversion to ever appearing uninformed. However, it was troubling that I could recall the exact phrase Wormtail had sobbed in the streets of Muggle London in order to frame Sirius, but the surname of Benjy—a wizard who had been blown to bits working for the Order—completely escaped me.

" _Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?"_

I shuddered as I realized that I no longer heard those words in Fudge's quiet rumble, but rather in the voice of the young Peter Pettigrew—a boy I'd begun to grow rather fond of.

I shook away the disturbing thought and traced the letters of Harry's name with the tip of my finger. The possibility of a bit of Voldemort's mangled soul residing within my best friend had been festering in the recesses of my mind ever since I'd discovered that Harry had gone into the forest alone. Well, if I'm honest with myself, I'd been considering something to that effect for years—ever since his dream of Mr. Weasley's attack. I just _knew_ there was more to his scar than Dumbledore let on. The mental connection between Harry and Voldemort was just too _strange._  Then when we learned of Horcruxes… _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ had warned of how unstable the rest of one's soul can become by creating a Horcrux, and when Voldemort visited Godric's Hollow, he'd already made _five_. What if his soul had become so mutilated, so volatile, that whenever he cast the Killing Curse upon Lily, another fragment of soul had broken away? When his body was destroyed, had a part of Lord Voldemort latched onto Harry's pure and unblemished soul?

Had Harry become an unintentional seventh Horcrux?

This concept had been too unsettling to dwell upon. I'd suppressed my speculations over the past year, but it was why I'd urged Harry so strongly to apply Occlumency against the unnatural connection. During our lonely months in hiding last winter, I'd attempted to teach myself the obscure branch of cerebral magic so that I might be able to help Harry learn to effectively shield his mind. My work was all for naught, however, because it soon became clear that Harry had no intention of relinquishing the advantageous insight into the mind of his foe.

It wasn't until the Final Battle that I received shaky confirmation of my theory. Harry _never_ would have sacrificed himself in such a manner without good reason. Something within Snape's deathbed gift of memories must have made Harry conclude that his death was the only way to defeat Voldemort—the only path to victory, even if it wasn't his.

If only he'd been right.

And then there was Snape. Where had Professor Snape's loyalty truly been? Recent evidence certainly suggested that there was much more to the story than I'd been privy to. From what I've observed, it appeared that Severus and Lily had once been close friends, something I doubt Harry had ever known. And yet, Severus had been the one to convey the contents of the Prophecy to his Master, ultimately leading to the murders of Lily and James. Had he felt remorse? Disavowed his beliefs and turned double agent out of regret?

If all of this were true, then was there a way to prevent him from siding with those that loathed the woman he loved?

My fists clenched, almost snapping my quill, as my eyes reached a certain Death Eater's name— _Antonin Dolohov_. I harbored a particular hatred for the vile, cruel man. The curse he had used in the Department of Mysteries was only one of the many marks on my skin, but it was the first I'd received. The web of purple lines that radiated like macabre lace across my ribcage was just the beginning of my journey. Even more than my own meager sufferings, Dolohov had been the one to kill Remus, as well as Gideon and Fabian. I didn't even want to think of the many other atrocities attributed to his wand. For those reasons, I decided that he was _mine_ to handle.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared down at the drying ink. I felt utterly overwhelmed.

_Was I capable of changing_ _**all** _ _of this?_

Was I out of my depth?

But I wasn't alone in this seemingly impossible task, I reminded myself. I had Dumbledore— _the only one_ _ **he**_ _ever feared._ As wary as I was to fully trust the man, I still wholeheartedly believed what I'd told Harry: Albus Dumbledore had _loved_ Harry Potter, almost like a son. Dumbledore was… complicated. He trusted very few, of that I was certain. But for a wizard of his caliber, in addition to the troubles of his past, that wasn't necessarily abnormal. Would he trust me enough to allow a proper partnership to form? Would he consider me an equal in the mission that lay before us?

As I thought of Dumbledore, another alarming thought occurred to me.

_Dumbledore cannot be the one to kill Voldemort._

A duel between the two most powerful wizards alive should not be allowed to occur. Tom Riddle should _never_ come that close to possessing the Elder Wand. Even if it wasn't his focus during the First War, the possibility of Lord Voldemort becoming the true Master of the Third Hallow was utterly unfathomable. With his Horcruxes and an 'unbeatable wand,' he would truly be immortal.

He would become impossible to defeat.

A sigh escaped my lips as I laid down my quill. Well, there was little more I could do until my first meeting with Uncle Albus. I tapped my wand to the parchment, charming the list so that ink was only revealed with the correct passphrase, much like the Marauder's Map. It seemed only appropriate for the word to be _Harry._ I tucked the list inside the rear cover of my copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ for safe keeping, and opened _Spellman's Syllabary_ to begin my translations for Ancient Runes.

* * *

As I was polishing the conclusion of my Defense Against the Dark Arts essay, I heard shuffling a few shelves away from my secluded corner. My quill stalled against the parchment mid-sentence and I sank lower in my chair, listening closely. Very few students frequented this section of the library. Whoever it was, they were likely here for one of two reasons—a clandestine snog or some other sort of secret rendezvous. The unknown person was now skulking along the row nearest to me, walking very slowly and seemingly snatching books from shelves at random, replacing them almost instantly. A second pair of footsteps soon joined the first and both halted. They stood in silence for a moment before one of the pair spoke.

"Were you followed?" a male asked in a rough, low whisper. I held my breath as I strained to hear, wishing I could extract a pair of Extendable Ears from my beaded bag, but I knew the commotion might reveal me.

"No. Now do you mind telling me why the fuck I'm here?" the second person replied. This wizard's voice was softer, but he sounded highly irate.

"You've been avoiding me, Black," stated wizard number one.

_Black?_

Weren't there only two Blacks at Hogwarts in 1977?

I peered cautiously around the barrier of books surrounding me and through a small gap in the shelving. A black-haired wizard stood with his back to me, facing a square-jawed blonde with strangely squinty eyes who was gripping a weighty tome in his meaty fingers. The blonde wizard wasn't necessarily _un_ attractive, but something about his features seemed off. Both looked to be in sixth or seventh year.

The dark-haired boy was shorter than Sirius, so I could only presume him to be Regulus. He folded his arms over his chest and straightened his posture haughtily. "The fuck I have. Term just started, you moron."

"Watch your tongue," said the other wizard, henceforth known as 'Squinty Arsehole,' harshly. "Remember to whom you're speaking."

I could almost _hear_ Regulus roll his eyes, which seemed to annoy Squinty Arsehole.

_"He_ requires an answer and his patience is wearing thin. He won't wait any longer." Squinty advanced slightly, and the menacing look on his face clearly conveyed that he was not in the mood to deal with a smart mouth. I didn't think it possible, but his eyes narrowed even further as he glared expectantly down at Regulus.

He should really visit Madam Pomfrey to have his eyesight examined. That squint looked unhealthy.

Regulus was silent for a beat. "Tell him I said yes," he said slowly. "I accept his offer."

There was no doubt in my mind as to what the offer was. My heart ached, knowing how much this would hurt Sirius, as well as what accepting would mean for Regulus.

Squint-face's attitude changed abruptly and his face relaxed into a smile. I cringed, a vestige of being raised by dentists, as he displayed rows of crooked teeth. "Good man, Reg. You know where to meet us." He clapped Regulus on the shoulder approvingly.

Regulus shifted uncomfortably and lowered his voice. I nearly slipped from my seat as I leaned further to eavesdrop. "No, actually. I don't," said Regulus steadily. I got the impression that he was being intentionally thick.

_But, why?_

Mister Bad-Vision ground his teeth. "Forest. Thursday at midnight." Regulus nodded curtly in understanding, and Squints glanced up and down the row of shelves. I shrank even lower into my seat. "I'm going that way." He jerked his thumb to the right. "You wait one minute, then go the other."

Squints McGee departed quickly in the direction of the library's east exit. Regulus ran a hand through his shiny black hair and slumped to the ground against the bookshelf. I stared in surprise at the place where his head had been, my quill still immobile against parchment, hardly daring to breathe. Almost two minutes later, he stood, resumed his usual cavalier stance, and slowly began strolling down the aisle of shelves. When he paused at the end, I came to my senses and hastily resumed my essay. I cursed under my breath as I saw that my lax quill had left a large inkblot on the parchment. I used my wand to siphon the ink from the essay, and when someone dropped into the seat across from me, I maintained an impassive expression, not even glancing up.

I knew whom I would find.

_Goddamned Blacks._

* * *

**GTTN BONUS:** _**Snuffles**_

* * *

**Summer, 1976 — Potter Manor**

* * *

"James? Sirius?" a magically-magnified voice called in the distance. "Where are you? It's almost time for dinner!"

Amongst the foliage of a small wood near a handsome manor house, a majestic, russet-colored stag halted mid-canter, hooves skidding against the earthy ground. A shaggy black dog, who had been rutting on his back in the tall grass of a nearby clearing, stiffened, paws in the air, before rolling over to sit back on his haunches. The dog's ears perked and his snout rose, sniffing wildly as the scent of Sunday roast wafted toward the two animals. The stag shot an unnatural, humanlike look of panic at the dog, and then suddenly, the stag was no more.

In its place stood a lanky teenaged wizard, black hair even more untidy than usual, clothing rumpled and dirty from the jaunt outdoors.

"What the hell, Sirius?" said James Potter, brushing a bit of grass from his hair. "Change the fuck back. Mum's holding dinner for us."

The dog acknowledged the wizard with a bark, and then stood stock-still, a look of intense concentration in his steely gray eyes. James watched expectantly.

But nothing happened.

The canine relaxed and turned to James, eyes wide with shock.

"You can't change back?" asked James. The dog shook his head. "Well why the fuck not?"

The dog gave James a significant look.

James groaned. "You've gotten into Dad's stash of Firewhiskey again, haven't you?"

The dog barked once more in response.

James seemed to take this as an admission of guilt. He smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand in exasperation. "Bloody-sodding-hell, Padfoot. How many times have I warned you not to transform after drinking? And you didn't even share? I'm going to have to come up with a really great lie for this one…"

The dog simply wagged his long tail happily and began to trot toward Potter Manor, which was perched proudly on a hill in the distance.

"Hold up, you mangy mutt!" James called as he jogged after the dog.

* * *

Dorea Potter was waiting in the expansive garden that led to the rear entrance of her home. She was a venerable-looking witch, garbed in elegant French-made robes, graying hair swept into a polished chignon. A trace of the haughty disposition of the Black family was discernable in her otherwise kind features.

As her son approached, she eyed his disheveled state suspiciously. "What kept you? Where is Sirius?" She paused, noticing the massive black dog at James's heel. "And where in the name of Merlin did you find a  _dog?"_

James's eyes darted rapidly from his mother to the amused-looking dog in silent alarm. "Er—hey, mum. Sirius is…" He broke off, minding working frantically. "Visiting Remus! Yeah, he decided to have dinner with Remus's family this evening." He gave a nonchalant shrug, obviously playing for time. "You know how he is, always has to be out somewhere doing something."

"And the dog?" Dorea asked again, eyes appraising the panting animal. The dog's tail began to wag even more rapidly.

"And the dog—" James repeated slowly, waiting for the answer to miraculously come to him, "—is Peter's! He asked me to watch it today while he's, er—away."

James rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, very aware that this was undeniably the  _worst_  lie he'd ever attempted.

His mother raised her eyebrows skeptically at the poorly delivered fib. "So Sirius is at the Lupins—without notifying anyone—while you're at home, acting as pet-sitter for Peter," she surmised, giving James a pointed look.

"Er—yes?"

Dorea was evidently accustomed to her adolescent son's antics. "Well, if you say so. Tell Sirius to inform us next time. A mother must always know where her children are."

James nodded in relief as he followed his mother through the double doors of the stately manor. Sirius, still in his animagus form, padded along behind the two Potters, tail still wagging eagerly.

"So, does this—" She turned to scrutinize the canine, wrinkling her nose at the muddy paw prints sullying her usually pristine marble floors. " _—dog_  have a name?"

Another wave of panic washed over James, but out of nowhere, he recalled a television program he had watched years ago with a kid from the nearby village. Alfie, the Muggle neighbor boy, had called it a  _cartoon._

A wicked grin spread across James's dirt-smudged face.

"Yep. Sure does." He reached down and patted the dog's shaggy head. "This here is  _Snuffles."_

The dog gave a loud, indignant yelp.

"Snuffles?" repeated Dorea, arching a dark eyebrow. "I think you should have a talk with Peter about what is and what is not a proper name to give a pet."

"I'll get on that," James replied, scratching the dog placatingly behind an ear. "Maybe we have some dog biscuits for you somewhere," he said to the dog in a babyish tone. "What do you think,  _Snuffles?"_

Dorea Potter brought a hand to her mouth to hide her smile as the great black dog rolled his eyes.

She was proud to have such brilliant sons.

* * *

A few hours later, the two teenaged wizards sat cross-legged on the floor of James's bedroom, sharing a half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey over a game of Exploding Snap.

"So… why Snuffles?"

"No fucking clue, mate."

Sirius threw down a card. "You know, dog biscuits really aren't half bad."

The card Sirius had just played exploded with a loud  _bang._

James roared with laughter.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): God, it feels like ages since I've gotten a new chapter out! I apologize for the delay, but I had a huge exam to study for (med school ain't no joke, y'all), so I had to take a short break from writing.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Lily is playing nice with James, but will it last? Very little Hermione/Sirius interaction, but it was definitely significant. And we finally have Regulus coming into play. Who do you think Squints McGee is? What do you guys think will happen between Reg and Hermione? And finally, what about Marlene and Delia?
> 
> So many questions left to be answered.
> 
> As for the little bonus content, I recommend a quick Google search of "Hanna-Barbera Snuffles" to understand the reference. I thought I'd give a little insight into why Sirius was so surprised last chapter when Hermione slipped up and called him "Snuffles." Also, I'm aware that James's parents are canonically Fleamont and Euphemia, but I really like the headcanon of Charlus and Dorea, which was popular before the Pottermore article, and it works well for my story. Creative license, and all.
> 
> As always, please review and let me know what you'd think! Anything you'd like to see or wish I'd avoid?
> 
> -liz


	13. Proof of Your Pain

* * *

**Chapter 13: Proof of Your Pain**

* * *

"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head — that's one o' the pubs down in the village."  
—Rubeus Hagrid, _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone,_ J.K. Rowling

* * *

I sat alone at the at the grimy bar of the Hog's Head Inn, picking nervously at the peeling label of my drink as I waited for Aberforth to finish serving a large party of Peruvian wizards who were apparently in town for the annual Magizoology symposium hosted by the Scamanders. The wizards were a rowdy bunch, and I could sense Aberforth growing testier by the second. I stared ahead to the wall of dusty liquor bottles behind the bar, consumed with thoughts of yesterday's strange encounter.

I still couldn't make any sense of Regulus Black.

* * *

His wand was out, levitating the heavy books from my makeshift wall back to their proper places on the shelves surrounding us. Dark eyes, so unlike his brother's, eyed me curiously once there were no more volumes separating us.

"So you're the new girl?" he asked without preamble as he leaned back lazily in his chair. His haughty expression outweighed any other differences in appearance, and in that moment, his resemblance to Sirius was striking.

I gave the younger Black a withering look and sat up a little straighter, appearing much more confident than I felt. "Yep, that's me. The mysterious new girl, single handedly keeping the Hogwarts rumor mill churning."

Regulus smirked handsomely. "No need for snark, Granger. I was just hoping to find out why my idiot brother is following you around like a lost puppy."

I looked up at him in surprise. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

_I thought the two brothers were estranged?_

Why was Regulus watching out for Sirius?

His smirk broadened, but I could tell that his eyes held no malice. "I can see there's no need to introduce myself." My cheeks burned and I scolded myself for allowing my expression to be so transparent. "Oh come on, don't tell me you haven't noticed?" he continued. "The whole damn school has seen how he barely lets you out of his sight."

I furrowed my brow at the implication, but didn't respond. My fist clenched around my wand, which, before the interruption, I'd been using to clear the blotted ink from my essay.

_My_ _**wand.** _

Oh God, _please don't let him notice my wand._ I didn't want another imbroglio like I'd had with Sirius. I shifted my palm casually down the handle of the walnut wand, covering the majority of the carved runic symbols. There was no telling how Regulus would react if he recognized the wand in my hand, and I had no desire to make my situation messier than it already was.

He was silent as well, observing my reaction closely. Then suddenly, his smirk faded and his eyes hardened. "So, tell me, Miss Dumbledore," he said, my little-known surname slowly falling from his lips, baiting me. I grimaced as I realized that my fabricated story was much more widespread than I had thought. "What are you doing with my brother?"

"I don't know what you mean," I replied mildly. "Sirius and I are barely friends. Nothing more." I slid my wand smoothly from the table and into the front pocket of my bag. Regulus's eyes widened briefly with surprise, and I knew he must have caught a glimpse.

_Goddamn it._

Lately my vigilance had been anything but constant.

"Friends?" he snorted, recovering quickly. "You should know that my brother has very few friends of the female persuasion."

I shrugged unconcernedly. "There's no need to tell me that, Regulus. I understand Sirius better than you think."

He gave me a skeptical look. "You think you know my own brother better than me?"

"Not necessarily," I answered evenly. "He may have a reputation as a womanizing prat, but I know the kind of man he'll become one day. He will be exceptionally kindhearted and brave. Loyal almost to a fault—the kind of man willing to risk his life for those he loves."

His eyes narrowed at my proclamation. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, debating the risky statement on the tip of my tongue.

_Oh, fuck it._

"Unlike you, if the conversation I just overheard is any indication."

* * *

I took a swig from my dusty bottle, frowning as I swallowed the last bit. I set it down on the counter with a hollow thunk and eyed the bloke behind the bar. His smooth, rosy cheeks suggested he couldn't be long out of Hogwarts and his dark hair was cropped closely to his scalp in a Muggle military-style. He paused halfway through wiping down a beer mug to _Scourgify_ the filthy rag, but succeeded only in making the graying cloth slightly less dingy—even magic had its limitations. I laughed quietly as he wrinkled his nose in disgust, and I could tell he hadn't been working here very long.

At the sound of my laughter, the wizard looked up, scanning the bar. When his eyes landed on me, he smiled welcomingly before sliding the glass onto a shelf and heading in my direction.

"Another Butterbeer, miss?" he asked when he reached me.

I nodded, and he reached beneath the bar to retrieve a grubby bottle. As he popped the top with a flick of his wand, I used my own to siphon the layer of dust from the glass.

"Ah, good idea," he said approvingly. I gave a weak smile in response, and he glanced around at the bar once again. Apparently seeing there were no other customers waiting, he leaned against the counter and said, "New in town? I don't think I've seen you around before."

His eyes held a flirtatious sparkle that I didn't have the energy to return, so I simply nodded. "Just last week, actually."

"So what brings you to the Hog's Head?" he asked.

"I'm meeting someone soon."

He nodded, knowing better than to inquire further. The number one rule of the Hog's Head: don't ask too many questions. "Well I'm glad you stopped by," he said, offering his hand to me and giving a warm smile. "I'm Benjy Fenwick."

My eyes widened as I realized to whom I was speaking. My hand trembled as I placed it in his.

" _Benjy Fenwick, he copped it too, we only ever found bits of him…"_

Fenwick—Benjy's surname was Fenwick. He was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, placed at the Hog's Head with Aberforth to keep an eye on the less scrupulous patrons.

"It's nice to meet you, Benjy. I'm Hermione," I replied, doing my best to keep my expression steady.

"Cheers, Hermione." He paused for a moment, looking me over shrewdly. "If you don't mind me saying, you don't really look like you belong in a place like this."

I shrugged, knowing full well that, despite my scarred visage, I was quite out of place in the dodgy pub. I gave him the same once-over he'd given me.

"Neither do you."

He laughed. "Touché. I actually just started working here a few weeks ago—haven't quite gotten used to the dust yet."

"Any more complaints out of you, boy, and you won't get the chance to."

I turned to find Aberforth standing behind my barstool, wiping his hands on the stained apron around his waist and looking even grumpier than usual.

"Great to see you again, Dad."

Aberforth snorted as Benjy's eyes widened in shock.

* * *

"Sit wherever you want," Aberforth said gruffly as we reached the top of the stairs leading from the pub.

I sat primly on the edge of a lumpy armchair near the fireplace of Aberforth's sitting room. He took the seat across from me as he conjured a tea tray from thin air. It landed lightly on the wooden table between us, and he poured two steaming mugs of tea before pulling a silver flask from his pocket.

"Firewhiskey?" he asked, nodding to the flask in his hand.

_'Before noon on a Sunday?'_ chided Mrs. Weasley's voice in my head.

"No thank you," I replied politely.

"Nonsense, girlie. This conversation requires a little lubricant."

I gave him a grim smile. "You're probably right. Go on then. Just a bit, please."

He nodded curtly and sloshed a little of the now familiar amber liquid into both mugs.

_So much for never drinking again._

"Thank you for the owl," I said as he passed me a chipped mug. "She's very friendly. I named her Evie."

Aberforth grunted something that sounded like "Welcome," and I took a small sip of my tea, enjoying the faint warmth that went beyond the hot beverage. I stared down at my cup and scuffed a toe against the threadbare carpet, trying to decide how to begin this awkward conversation.

"You've got no idea what to say now, am I right?"

Aberforth's blunt statement caused me to look up, and I found brilliantly blue eyes piercing me, scrutinizing, just as his brother's had so many times. "Not a clue, sir," I replied honestly. "I'm a bit nervous, to tell you the truth. I know you didn't ask for this."

"Nope, sure as hell didn't."

I opened my mouth, ready to say that I completely understood and I'd inform his brother that all of this wasn't necessary.

However, he silenced me with a wave of a large, calloused handa and continued. "But I'm doing it, aren't I?" He pushed his grimy spectacles up the bridge of his long nose. "And for Merlin's sake, don't call me sir. _'Dad'_ is enough to be getting used to." He said the word as though it were a swear.

I swallowed my rejoinder and nodded before taking the plunge. "So how much do you know?"

"Everything, I reckon. Or at least the big picture," he answered, forgoing his cup of tea for a swig straight from his flask.

"So you know where I'm from?"

He took another gulp before lowering the flask and wiping a few stray drops of Firewhiskey from his whiskers with his sleeve. "From a time where we lost dismally?" he replied, recapping the flask slowly. "Where the school's in ruins and we're all dead?"

_Succinctly put._

I nodded.

"Yeah, Albus told me. Didn't believe him, honestly. It's pretty damn out there, even for my brother."

"Do you still not believe me?" I asked, wondering why he'd agree to this arrangement if he didn't trust my story.

"Not sure," he replied. "Why should I?"

_Why can't my life ever be simple?_

My eyebrows furrowed. "So what do you want me to do?" I asked, voice rising in frustration. "Prove it to you? Because I can. I know things. Things only _you_ could have told me."

"We've met?" he asked.

"You saved my life twice," I replied simply.

He sipped his tea in silent contemplation.

I took a deep breath and gazed up to the sooty oil painting of Ariana Dumbledore above the mantelpiece. She smiled serenely down at us, white pinafore neat and blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. I stared into her blue eyes, dulled from the age of the portrait, but just as distant and vacant as I remembered. She gave an almost imperceptible nod, spurring me on.

"You were her favorite," I said softly to the quiet room. "After she was attacked, her magic became unstable, but you were one of the few she trusted. After your mother was gone, only you could calm her—not Albus." Aberforth looked up, surprise briefly perceptible on his lined face. "You were good for one another. She liked to help you feed the goats when she was feeling well enough." I swallowed thickly, knowing I had to finish, but _hating_ myself for it. My voice bordered on a whisper now. "And you still don't know whose wand was responsible."

Aberforth's expression was indecipherable, but all color had drained from his face. He sat up straighter in his chair and returned his cup of tea to the tray. He took a long draft from his flask as he stood.

"Come with me," he grunted before striding across the room and opening a half-hidden door I had previously overlooked.

Perplexed, I stood to follow. The door led outdoors, and we descended a set of weather-beaten wooden steps to the back garden of the Hog's Head. It was surprisingly spacious. In one corner was a modest vegetable garden filled with the crops of autumn—pumpkins, courgettes, and a variety of squashes. The other side was taken up by a large enclosure containing half a dozen goats and a few small kids bleating excitedly at our arrival.

Aberforth's face softened the moment his foot left the bottom step, and as he approached the fence, a black and white goat lolloped over, poking its head through the slats. A tiny, pure-white baby followed clumsily, nudging the larger one with its nose as it tried to come closer.

"This here is Selene," said Aberforth as he gently patted the head of the black and white goat. "And her little one, Ersa." He scratched the baby goat beneath her fuzzy chin, and she closed her eyes contentedly. "Pet 'em if you like. I've got some biscuits somewhere…"

He walked over to a bin near the wall of the pub to retrieve the treats. I reached out and stroked Selene, who nuzzled into my open palm. I smiled as she gave me a quick lick with her long, scratchy tongue.

"She's very sweet," I said once he returned.

Aberforth held out a biscuit to the baby, who devoured it promptly. "Just now old enough that she can have these." His voice grew rougher the more he spoke. "Selene and Ersa are direct descendants of one of the very first goats I ever got—Asha. She was Ariana's special favorite, so I let her do the naming. I used to read to her from Beedle's tales, you see..." He choked on his words and hastily attempted to pass if off as a cough. "Asha. Would be a fitting name, 'cept that there was no potion strong enough to heal my sister."

Tears were forming in the corners of Aberforth's wizened eyes, and I was reminded of a line from the very tale he'd just mentioned— _The Fountain of Fair Fortune._

_'Pay me the proof of your pain.'_

The proof was evident as he hastily looked away. "You were right," he said. "My sister loved to help feed the goats. She'd play in the dirt with the young ones…" He fell quiet for a moment, watching the animals frolic about the pen.

"I reckon you're telling the truth, then," he said finally. "And I can't imagine what sort of hell you went through to get here, nor what you're planning on doing next. But you need somebody to help keep your head on straight, 'cause Merlin only knows what my brother is brewin' up for you."

"Thank you," I whispered as I knelt in front of Ersa. She stretched her neck until her small nose made contact with my cheek. "Everything is just so…" I broke off, searching for the right words. "Bloody insane right now." Aberforth gave a low chuckle. "But your brother told me that it's helpful to always have someone in your corner, and I think he's right."

"Albus always enjoyed his Muggle phrases."

We stood together in silence as the other goats approached us in search of their own biscuits. It struck me that this version of Aberforth seemed to be less… _jaded_ than his future counterpart. The tragedies of his past had certainly left him cynical and disenchanted, but it seemed that there was still hope for him yet.

"Well, if you're going to be a Dumbledore, we might as well do the thing properly," Aberforth said suddenly. "It's tradition for every member of the family to be given three middle names. I know you've already got one and your surname, but…" Aberforth looked uncharacteristically hesitant as he paused. "How would you feel about taking the name Ariana?"

I gaped at him, quite literally speechless.

"What?" I spluttered.

"Of course, you don't—"

"No!" I all but shouted, and he fell silent. "I'm just a little surprised. I never anticipated…” I smiled graciously. “But I would be honored. Hermione Jean Ariana Granger-Dumbledore. A mouthful, but quite lovely, I think."

Aberforth grunted in a agreement. "Albus mentioned going the whole hog with a magical adoption. I reckon you'll have to talk to him about that."

I nodded. "You won't have to do very much," I said quickly. "I don't need money or anything like that."

Aberforth laughed. "Money? Nah. Any kid of mine will bleeding well work for their Galleons. Help me out at the pub when you can, and I'll be sure you're set."

I gave him a wide smile.

_Can't argue with that._

"Sounds perfect to me."

"Right, then," Aberforth said, brushing biscuit crumbs from his hands. "I'll show you 'round the place."

As we walked to the door of the pub, he asked, "So just how old was I when you were born?"

"I suppose my birthdate is now in 1958, which means you would have been…" I wrinkled my nose as I quickly calculated. "Seventy-three."

"Really robbed the cradle, didn't I?" There was a twinkle in Aberforth's blue eyes, lighting up his whole face.

"I prefer to think that Mum just really fancied men with beards."

* * *

After a quick tour of the pub and a sandwich for lunch, I decided to stick around for the rest of the afternoon to get a feel for the place. I found I enjoyed Benjy's company greatly, and as I helped him take inventory of the back room, he'd entertained me with stories of his Hogwarts years. He'd graduated only two years prior and had evidently been a Hufflepuff with a penchant for skiving off lessons. He was an animated storyteller, and I laughed a little too much as he regaled the time he and his mates had gotten caught in second year, by no less than Dumbledore himself, as they left Moaning Myrtle's bathroom after using it to hold a Gobstones tournament while they were meant to be in History of Magic. It reminded me of my second year and sneaking off to brew a certain illicit potion, so I shared the tale with him, being careful to leave out the exact reason behind my illegal activity. He was impressed with my potion-brewing abilities as a second year and roared with laughter when I reached the cat hair plot-twist.

"So you spent a whole month in the hospital wing? With whiskers and a tail?" he asked as I stretched to replace a jar of olives on the top shelf.

"Yep. Well the whiskers went quickly, but the tail stuck around for longer than I care to say. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to sleep when you keep rolling over on your great fluffy tail?"

He was laughing so hard he had to sit down.

"I'm glad my misfortune amuses you," I said, rolling my eyes as I picked up another jar.

"It is pretty great story, love. You weren't lying when you said you had plenty of adventures."

The jar of olives slipped from my fingers, bouncing against the ground as I spun around. Sirius was standing in the doorway of the back room of the pub, leaning against the frame, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"Sirius!" I exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He was wearing the same leather jacket as he had the last time we'd been in Hogsmeade together, but this time I found that it made me go a little weak in the knees.

He shrugged nonchalantly, but didn't answer my question. "Your dad said you were back here. New part-time job?"

"Just helping Dad out around the pub," I answered. Benjy was looking from me to Sirius in silent bemusement. "Oh, sorry, Benjy. This is Sirius Black. He's a Gryffindor in my year. Sirius, this is Benjy Fenwick."

Benjy's eyes narrowed at the surname Black. "Yeah, I think I remember you from school. Along with a few other members of your family."

Sirius's face grew more serious. "You can't choose your family," he responded darkly.

Benjy appraised Sirius carefully for a moment. "True. I reckon a Black in Gryffindor is a pretty big departure from tradition, after all."

"No doubt about that," Sirius replied, his expression relaxing to normal. "Scandal of the century, according to my mother."

"Sirius, you didn't answer my question," I interjected huffily. "Why are you here?"

"Merlin, can't a bloke sneak out of the castle to visit a friend without getting the third degree?"

I arched an eyebrow skeptically.

"Fine," he conceded. "Marlene and I just had a bit of a falling out and Lily's on a warpath. I figured I'd better get the hell out of dodge if I like my bollocks in their proper place."

I ignored the way my heart rate quickened at this news, and turned to Benjy. "Think you can finish up without me?"

"Sure thing. You'll be back soon, I hope?" he asked. It wasn't a flirtatious question, but rather one you'd ask a new friend.

"Of course. Got to earn my keep, right?"

Benjy laughed. "See you soon then, Hermione."

I said my goodbye before steering Sirius back into the pub. "Come on, heartbreaker. Let's see if Dad will let us have a drink."

* * *

Aberforth watched us closely from behind the bar as I sipped my Butterbeer and Sirius swirled his glass of Firewhiskey pensively. He'd been uncharacteristically subdued since we'd taken our seats at a small table at the back corner of the pub.

"So are you going to tell me what happened or were you just planning to leave me here in suspense?" I asked, repeating the words he'd said to me a few days ago.

"How was lunch with your dad?"

I sighed at his obvious attempt to avoid the question. "Very good, actually. I think we might have a shot at being a proper family. Whatever that means."

"Good, good," said Sirius distractedly.

"Sirius," I said sternly. "What in the world is going on with you?"

He set his glass down onto the table and looked up at me, expression blank. "At the moment? Far too much."

"This isn't just about your break up with Marlene, is it?"

He shook his head. "Not a break up if you aren't really dating, anyway."

I didn't say a word, but instead waited for him to grow uncomfortable with the silence.

"How much do you know about my family, Hermione?" he blurted suddenly.

I stiffened visibly. "Honestly?" I asked.

He nodded.

_How much should I tell him?_

"A good bit," I admitted.

"So you know the kind of people they are?"

"Yes, I do," I replied carefully. "They hold some very unsettling beliefs, so I've heard. Along with a proclivity for practicing the darker aspects of magic."

"But you know that I'm not like them at all?" he asked, voice strained. "That I've never been like them?"

"Of course I do, Sirius," I said sincerely. "I understand the kind of person you are better than you think."

He didn't look surprised. "Yeah, I thought you might," he said, running a finger along the edge of his glass. "I don't know what it is about you, but you seem to get me better than people I've known for years."

_Because I_ have _known you for years._

I knew you when you were at your worst.

My heart ached for the young wizard sitting across from me, and I reached out and placed a hand on top of his. He seemed startled at the gesture and stared down at my hand with a strange expression.

A bell tinkled as the door of the pub opened, but I didn't look away from him. He seemed to be struggling to decide what to say next. He looked up, his lips parting to finally reveal what was troubling him, but suddenly, his mouth snapped shut and he stiffened. His eyes were fixed on something over my shoulder and he pulled his hand away sharply.

Stung, I asked, "Sirius, wha—" but he kicked me beneath the table. I fell silent.

"Long time, no see, Sirius," a voice drawled. Someone was approaching our table, and I could sense they weren't here on friendly business. I turned to see who it was.

The cover of a certain edition of _The Daily Prophet_ flashed across my mind as the wizard reached us. My heart seemed to leap into my throat as recognition hit me.

— _Rodolphus Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom—_

Well, at least it's not Bellatrix.

"Same to you, Lestrange," Sirius said dryly. "How's the family?"

"Everyone is well, on the whole. Something you would know if you ever came home." Sirius clenched his fist around his glass as Rodolphus continued. "Your mother is heartbroken over your absence."

"Heartbroken?" Sirius snorted. "And just what heart would that be? I was under the impression that my mother didn't have one."

"She simply misses you," Rodolphus said calmly. "She's been having Bellatrix and Narcissa over for tea twice a week since you left. Having someone around helps her to cope with her grief."

Sirius laughed hollowly. "Bella doesn't quite strike me as the type of witch to enjoy tea with an old hag like my mother."

Rodolphus ignored the slight to his wife. "Narcissa is set to be married soon, and as you well know, your father's health is in decline. Orion has been asking for you."

Sirius grimaced, but didn't respond. It seemed that he felt a bit more fondness toward his father than his mother.

Rodolphus dropped all pretense. "The offer still stands. I implore you to reconsider. You would be welcomed back with open arms, all previous transgressions forgiven."

"Fuck off, Lestrange," spat Sirius. The look of fury on his face was frightening.

It was time to intervene.

"Sirius," I said quietly. "Let's get out of here."

Sirius glared at Rodolphus for a moment longer before rising from his chair and throwing a few Sickles onto the table next to his glass, which was still completely full of Firewhiskey. "I think you're right. Let's go, Hermione."

Rodolphus seemed to notice me for the first time when Sirius said my name, and his upper lips curled with recognition. Of course, Voldemort would find any relation of Dumbledore's a person of interest, especially one that seemingly appeared from thin air. I took hold of Sirius's hand and dragged him toward the door of the pub.

"Interesting company you're keeping, Sirius," Rodolphus called after us.

_Buggering fucking hell._

Not even a week since my arrival and I've already caught the eye of the enemy.

I looked to Aberforth, silently informing him that we were leaving, and he nodded shortly as if to say  _'Go now.'_

"Bye, Dad," I mouthed, and the corners of his mouth rose slightly.

The door banged shut behind us, and I pulled Sirius into an alleyway a few buildings away from the Hog's Head. He leaned against the brick wall, eyes closed and breathing heavily as if fighting the urge to return to the pub and curse Rodolphus to a pulp. I held his hand tightly in my own as I stood in front of him. A battle raged inside my mind as I debated what to say next.

"Sirius," I said cautiously. "I know the timing is wretched, but I have to tell you something."

He opened his eyes and there was a manic glint there that sent a shiver down my spine. It was the sort of look I'd seen many times on the face of his cousin. His eyes were crazed in a way that in any other member of his family usually predicated murder.

"Hit me with your worst."

"I'm so sorry, Sirius, but your brother—" I paused apprehensively as Sirius inhaled sharply. "He said yes. I overheard him yesterday in the library. Regulus accepted."

* * *

"Unlike you, if the conversation I just overheard is any indication."

Regulus stared at me blankly. "If I were you, Granger," he said slowly. "I would keep my nose out of the affairs of others. This doesn't concern you or my brother."

_Or my brother._

Rage drove me to speech.

"Do you have any idea how much this will hurt him?" I said angrily. "He loves you, and you can't fool me into believing you don't still love him too. He'd do _anything_ for you, yet here you are, selling your soul to a genocidal megalomaniac. And for what? Archaic, bullshit beliefs?" I leaned across the table, my face inches away from his. My voice lowered to an almost dangerous growl. "It's not fucking worth it, Regulus. Trust me on this."

"Do not presume to know me," Regulus said harshly. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

I laughed humorlessly and leaned back in my chair. "Oh I don't, do I?" I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my Oxford, pulling the collar away from my throat to reveal the thin, pink line left by his cousin's knife. "Do you see this? And all of the other disgusting scars on my face?" Regulus stared at my neck for a moment, entranced, before averting his gaze. "I nearly lost my life because of someone, someone far away now, who shared the same philosophies. _You_ are the one who has no idea what you're getting into."

I gathered my things hastily and threw my bag over my shoulder, breathing heavily through my nose. "Consider the consequences, Regulus. I may not know you, but I certainly would rather not see you killed. And trust me, you _will_ die if you go down this path."

I left him sitting there as I walked away without looking back.

_Reckless. Utterly reckless._

* * *

Sirius gripped my hand as if holding on for dear life. "I knew he would. Fucking spineless idiot." He narrowed his eyes. "But how do you even know about their offer?"

"I know a lot of things," I replied vaguely. "I also know why he's joining them. He thinks it's the easiest option. He's not like you, Sirius. No matter how much you wish he was. You both grew up hearing the same old blood purity line, but you were smart enough not to believe it."

"He was always her favorite…" he mused, staring off into the distance. "Even when we were kids. I was too goddamn stubborn for my mother's liking, but she doted on him, made him soft." He ran a hand through his hair. "You said you overheard him in the library? Who was he talking to?"

"No idea. Some blonde bloke—squinty eyes and atrocious teeth."

"Mulciber," Sirius said with a grimace. "Creepy son of a bitch. After what that bastard did to Mary, I can't believe Regulus would associate with him…" He broke off, brows knitted as if his brain was working too quickly for him to fully process his thoughts.

I knew the feeling well.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"I know," I said, moving closer to him. "Regulus doesn't have the courage to refuse like you, but don't give up on him yet. He didn't seem to want to say yes, and…" I hesitated briefly as Sirius locked eyes with me. "I may have given him a pretty harsh speech afterward."

"You spoke to him?" Sirius asked sharply.

"Er—yes," I admitted. "He noticed me as he was leaving the library. He seemed to want to interrogate me about my, um…" I bit my lip, and he raised his eyebrows. "Intentions with you. But I wasn't having it."

I recounted to him my conversation with Regulus. His expression was unreadable as I spoke, but his grip on my hand never relented.

"And then I er—showed him something," I said as I reached the conclusion, wondering how to word this delicately. "Something given to me by someone that holds the same beliefs as the wackos he's joining. I needed him to see it; he needed a warning to consider the consequences, because I'd rather not see him die."

Without any warning whatsoever, Sirius yanked me roughly by the hand, pulling me closer until I was flush with his body. The warmth radiating from him starkly contrasted the chilly September breeze.

"What exactly did you show him, Hermione?" 

I sighed. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it does."

I'd talked myself into a corner, and I knew I had no other choice.

_Reckless. Utterly reckless._

I released Sirius's hand, but didn't back away. I fumbled to undo the top few buttons of my shirt and let the collar fall away from my throat. I cocked my head to the side to give him a better view of the thin, pink scar stretching low across my neck.

A low growl escaped from his throat and his eyes looked pained as he stared.

"It's not really that bad," I said reassuringly. "I've had worse."

I realized immediately that this was the wrong thing to say.

He gripped my waist with both hands and spun me around so that my back was pressed against the wall. The look on his face could only be described as dangerous.

"How?" he asked quietly.

"I—it's—it's complicated."

He ducked his head so that his face was closer to mine. "Tell me how, Hermione."

I groaned in frustration and placed both hands on his chest in a half-hearted attempt to gain some space between us.

"This is bloody ridiculous. Can't a girl have a few secrets? We just met less than a week ago!"

_Liar._

He gave me a burning stare, crumbling my resolve.

"I can't and won't give you specifics," I said resolutely, but the way I ran a hand through my hair betrayed my nerves. "I was captured. Someone did some pretty horrible things to me, and when we were trying to escape, I was held at knifepoint to force my friends to drop their wands. But we got away, and that's all that matters."

He traced the scar at the base of my throat with the tip of his index finger.

I shivered.

"Was that right before I found you? Was that why you looked like that?" He wrapped his arms around my waist, embracing me tightly. My whole body felt flushed as he rested his forehead against mine. Our bodies were pressed so closely together that it felt almost unbearable. I knew should have shrugged out of his grasp, but I didn't.

I couldn't.

I swallowed thickly. "No. That was—that was something else."

_That was the end of life as I knew it._

"There was no faulty Portkey," he murmured.

It wasn't a question.

I closed my eyes as I shook my head.

"No, there wasn't. I'm sorry I lied to you. But Sirius—I couldn't tell you. It's just too dangerous. _I'm_ too dangerous."

"You're a goddamn mystery is what you are," he said, his voice was a mere whisper. "Who are you? The look on your face when you first saw me—I can't get it out of my head. It was like you knew me…" His lips ghosted down my cheek near my ear, hot breath trailing slowly along the angle of my jaw. "How is it that you know me, Hermione?" he murmured.

I squeezed my eyes shut even more tightly. How did this conversation end up here?

_What could I possibly say?_

But then it hit me.

My eyes snapped open.

"Do you know Occlumency?" I asked, leaning back to look into his eyes.

The strange question seemed to startle him. "I'm a Black," he said simply as if it were the obvious answer to my question. When I merely looked confused, he clarified. "The Blacks have always been a paranoid lot. My father taught us when we were young. It's been a while, so I'm a little rusty, but…"

"Practice Occlumency and I'll tell you everything," I told him firmly.

"Everything?" he repeated, surprised.

"Every horrid detail," I promised.

I thought this would be the end of it, but he didn't release me. Instead, he hugged me closer yet again. I buried my face into his chest.

_He smelled like home._

"Did you mean what you said to Regulus?" he breathed into my hair.

"What?" I asked, the question muffled by his shirt.

"About knowing the kind of man I'll become?"

I looked up into his eyes, struck once again by the beautiful silvery blue I found there. My forehead furrowed in confusion. "Of course I did. Why would I say something like that if I wasn't certain of it?"

A grin spread slowly across his face, his gaze never straying as his lips moved breathtakingly close to mine.

"You're a strange witch, Granger."

And then he kissed me.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): So sorry to end the chapter there, but I couldn't help myself. First of all, I'm aware that the romance is moving rather quickly here, but there's totally a point to it.
> 
> As for the chapter title, I recommend reading The Tales of Beedle the Bard, copyright J.K. Rowling, published by Bloomsbury in 2008. The references in this chapter are from The Fountain of Fair Fortune, and while I think everyone should check it out, I'll give a few quick notes for those who haven't. Ariana's goat was named after a witch from the tale. "The first, by name Asha, was sick of a malady no Healer could cure." Along the witches' journey to the Fountain, they encountered three challenges, and the first challenge required them to provide "proof of their pain." The "proof" ended up being Asha's tears of despair. I hope that clarifies a few things for anyone confused.
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you enjoyed reading it. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think! Any predictions for what's to come in the next few chapters?
> 
> -liz


	14. Dress Robes, Dragons, and Clocks

* * *

**Chapter 14: Dress Robes, Dragons, and Clocks**  

* * *

 "Well?" Ron said finally, looking up at Harry. "How was it?"  
Harry considered for a moment. "Wet," he said truthfully.  
Ron made a noise that might have indicated jubilation or disgust, it was hard to tell.  
_—Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix,_ J.K. Rowling

* * *

In hindsight, I should have expected it.

The kiss began tentatively—a soft, questioning brush of his lips against mine. One of his hands left my waist to cup my cheek, and I stifled a surprised gasp as he nuzzled his nose to mine and lightly kissed the corner of my mouth. Who could blame me, after all? This was _Sirius Black._ It was as if slipping into an unexpected dream—the sort of blissful euphoria I’d only ever experienced during the nighttime hours. Or perhaps it was more like a moment stolen from another witch’s life—someone who hadn’t spent her entire adolescence fighting dark wizards.

_Someone normal._

When I didn’t pull away, his lips met mine once more, more intensely this time, and I surprised myself by responding earnestly. I felt a low hum of approval vibrate deep in his chest as I wrapped my arms around his neck and tilted my head to deepen the kiss. He closed any distance between us hastily, pressing me firmly against the brick wall, and ran his tongue along the seam of lips, requesting access.

How could I possibly refuse?

My lips parted and his tongue teased the tip of mine slowly, excruciatingly. Wanting more, wanting it all, I rose to the tips of my toes, attempting to pull him closer. He groaned audibly and responded with a desperate hunger, leaving me breathless, bordering on senseless. I lost myself in the softness of his lips, in the spearmint and tobacco taste of his mouth. The hand gripping my waist slid tantalizingly to my hip, causing me to moan softly against his lips. I would have been mortified by my wanton behavior if I hadn’t been so distracted by the way his calloused fingers were toying with the hem of my blouse, grazing the strip of bare skin above the waistband of my skirt. My skin seemed to sear at his touch and an unbearable warmth spread throughout my body, settling deep in my belly.

His kiss, his hands... God, all brought sensations I never thought possible. His lips were expert, skills well honed from many hours of practice. This kiss was far different, far more arousing, than the ones I’d shared with Victor or Ron.

_Ron._

Reality washed over me as if I’d been doused with icy water. My lips stilled against his and my entire body tensed.

The kiss was over, the moment ruined.

Bewildered, he pulled away, the concern on his face painfully obvious as his thumb brushed gently across my cheek.  

“Hermione, what’s wro—”

I shrugged out of his embrace and ducked away, trembling violently from head to foot. I bit my lip, looking to the heavens in panic. Tears pricked sharply at the corners of my eyes. I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, terrified that the fault lines in my chest would begin to crumble right before his eyes.

“I—I _can’t,_ I’m sorry…” I gasped. I gave him one last look, barely registering his alarm, before turning on the spot and Disapparating with a soft _pop._

_Home,_ I pleaded. _Take me home._

* * *

  **Sirius:** **  
(A few hours earlier)**

* * *

Sirius felt that Sundays were made for relaxing.

As a child, he'd gone out of his way to befriend the children of his Muggle neighbors in London, initially for the sole purpose of pissing off his mother, but eventually he'd found them to be far more interesting than the little pureblood tossers his family forced upon him. He would walk all the way from Grimmauld Place to Finsbury Park every afternoon to meet his two new friends, Laura and Dechlan. It made his stomach sick to think of them now thanks to his mother, but something Laura had said stuck with him ever since he was eight years old.

"I've always loved Sundays," she'd said with a contented sigh as all three children had lain in the grass, looking up at the fluffy cotton-wool clouds above them. "Our priest said that after creating the whole world, God rested on the seventh day, so we should too."

That was the last time he ever saw Laura or Dechlan, but since then, Sirius had reserved Sundays for nothing but pure relaxation.

Today was no different—or so he thought.

"My sister is getting married in a few months," said Marlene, breaking the silence. She was lounging on a settee in the common room with her feet in Sirius's lap, flipping through a copy of _Witch Weekly_ while Sirius and James played a game of chess nearby. Both boys looked up as James's knight destroyed one of Sirius's pawns.

"Elise or Blair?" asked James.

Sirius knew that the Potters and the McKinnons had been friends for years. Both families were pureblood, but neither put any stock in the importance of blood purity. Mr. and Mrs. McKinnon had four daughters: Blair, Elise, Marlene, and Nora. Blair and Elise had already left Hogwarts, and Nora had just started her fifth year. James and Marlene had basically grown up together, so while Sirius had only met them a handful of times, James knew Marlene's two older sisters well. Actually, James had the privilege of knowing Elise _very_ well _—intimately_ , one might say. Few people knew the identity of the lucky lady to snag James's virginity, and Marlene certainly wasn't one of them.

"Blair, obviously," Marlene snorted. "Elise is far too busy kissing arse at the Ministry to care about men. Drives Mum mad."

"Who's the lucky bloke?" asked James, looking obviously relieved at the news. James had a bit of a possessive side—he in no way had residual feelings for Elise, but Sirius knew that James would dislike the idea of her dating anyone else.

Marlene wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Selwyn."

"Not the Slytherin prat that graduated a few years back?" asked Sirius. The Selwyns were members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, like his own family, and just as focused on blood purity. Mrs. Selwyn was a regular at his mother’s Sunday afternoon tea.

"Yep," Marlene replied. "He seems decent enough, I suppose, especially coming from a family like his."

James and Sirius shared skeptical looks over their chessboard, but both knew better than to respond.

"He works in the Department of International Magical Cooperation with Elise. That's how he met Blair, actually. Elise…"

But both Sirius and James were no longer listening. Sirius's bishop overtook James's knight, and he cheered silently while Marlene continued, knowing full well that her audience couldn't give two fucks, but plowing on just the same.

"So Sirius," Marlene said, nudging him with a toe until he looked up. "What do you think of these dress robes?" She held out her magazine and pointed to the ponciest set of men's dress robes he'd ever seen.

"Er, what?" Sirius asked, confused.

"For you to wear to the wedding?" Marlene replied. "I'll be a bridesmaid, so I can't have you looking like a total muppet."

_Buggering fucking shit,_ Sirius thought, panicking. She honestly expected him to go as her date? But the wedding wasn't for months. How was he supposed to make plans so far in advance?

It was time, he decided. He'd been putting it off, avoiding conflict, but if she wanted him to commit to being her date months from now, he had to do it.

"Marlene, I think we need to talk."

Marlene narrowed her eyes, and James checked his watch conspicuously.

"Well, look at the time," James said loudly. "Sorry to abandon our game, Pads, but I've got to meet Delia." Marlene flashed him a dirty look. "Er—see ya," he finished before hurrying out of the common room.

As the portrait hole closed, Marlene turned to Sirius. "If you're trying to break up with me, don't bother. We weren't enough of a thing to warrant it."

Sirius slumped in obvious relief. "Thank Merlin," he sighed. "It's not that I don't like you, Mar. I think you're great and all, I really do, but maybe we should put a pin in it for now. Don't you think we work better as friends, anyway? I mean, we've been mates forever, ever since first year when James and I filled your cauldron with frogs. Well, at first you hated me, but then James convinced you that it was a bloody good prank, and... Shit, Marlene." He ran his fingers through his hair nervously, talking himself into a panic once again. "I don't want this to fuck up our friendship. Wasn't this all just supposed to be a bit of fun to begin with? Neither of us are the settling-down type, and I just don't think I can commit to—"

Marlene laughed dryly as she held up a hand to silence him. "Stop the babbling, Sirius. You made it clear when we started that it was nothing but shagging. No harm done."

He gave her his best charming smile and held out a hand. "So… friends?" he inquired hopefully.

She shrugged as she shook his hand. "Friends. Hating you would stir up a lot more shit, anyway. It's not worth it."

He didn't know how to respond, but thankfully, Marlene stood first. "I'm going out for a fly. See you around." She turned and left through the portrait hole, hips swaying enticingly as she walked.

_No, not enticingly, you randy wanker,_ Sirius chastised himself. There's a whole goddamn school full of witches out there.

But he knew that there was only one witch he wanted, and it wasn't the great arse that just walked away.

* * *

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Sirius looked up from his copy of _Quidditch Quarterly_ to find a very irate Lily Evans standing over him.

"Er, pardon?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Black," she snarled, snatching his magazine from his hands and whacking him over the head with it. "Why did you break up with Marlene?"

"So we're back to 'Black' now, are we?" Sirius said, somewhere between annoyed and amused. "I thought we were making progress, Lily-pad."

She threw the magazine back to him, pages fluttering as it landed haphazardly in his lap. "You don't deserve to be on a first name basis with me if you're going to screw over my best friend."

"Now hold on just one second," Sirius said. "Marlene and I left it on good terms. She said we were still friends and—"

"Of course she said you would still be friends!" she interrupted shrilly. "That's what all girls say when some bastard tosses them!"

"Well fuck me for thinking you birds actually mean what you say," grumbled Sirius.

"I just don't get it. Things seemed great between you two..." She paused, her eyebrows furrowed. "Please don't tell me this is about Hermione. "

"Oh, come off it," Sirius scoffed, rising from the settee. "We've known her for, what? Less than a week? It's got nothing to do with her." Lily rolled her eyes as Sirius continued. "And just so you know, Marlene and I weren't even dating. Everyone knows that I don't do the whole relationship thing. I only told her that I thought we should put a pin in it for now."

"Put a pin in it..." she repeated under her breath, shaking her head. "Well fuck us all for thinking you could be anything but a right git. God, will you ever grow up?"

"I think you're being a little harsh, Evans." James had returned and was now standing next to Lily, looking worried.

Lily snorted derisively and raised a hand to silence James. "Harsh? You think this is harsh? I had _plans_ , Black," she said, jabbing Sirius in the chest with her finger. "All sorts of fantastic plans, but then you had to go and fuck it all up. Now how are we supposed to—" but she broke off, looking as if she regretted her outburst. James eyed her curiously.

"I don't know what's stuck in your craw, Evans, but you need to butt out. It's none of your business if Marlene and I ended it. Now, if you'll excuse me." Sirius threw the Quidditch magazine onto the ground and stalked away.

"What in the name of Merlin was that all about?" James asked.

Lily groaned exasperatedly.

_Relaxation my arse_ , Sirius thought grumpily as he climbed through the portrait hole.

* * *

**Hermione:**

* * *

I landed on the outskirts of The Burrow, just outside of the gate leading to the garden. I wasn't surprised—my subconscious knew how significant the crooked little house was to me. Along with Hogwarts, the Burrow was the place where I had felt most loved. The home of the Weasley family was silhouetted beautifully in the pinkish glow of the setting sun, and I gripped the gate tightly for support as tears began to roll down my cheeks.

_What was I doing?_

Why on earth had I allowed myself to kiss Sirius? It was wrong, plain and simple. Of course, I was attracted to him—unbearably so, if I was honest with myself. How could I not be? But he was Harry's godfather, and in reality, he was twenty years older than me. I didn't belong with him in 1977. My rightful place was in the future with Harry and Ron.

_Ron._

I couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling that by kissing Sirius, I had betrayed Ron. Before the world had gone to shit, it had seemed like Ron and I might actually have had a chance—a chance to be together properly, a chance at happiness, a chance at normalcy. Not only had he been my best friend, but I'd been in love with him for _years_ , far longer, I'm sure, than anyone had known, except for maybe Ginny.

But then he died. Ron fucking  _died_ , and I was whisked away by some fucked-up magical catastrophe to a time where he wasn't even  _born_  yet. If I was stuck here, as Professor Dumbledore had implied, then was it really a betrayal to be with someone else?

Even more than that, how could I live with myself if I allowed Sirius to be in danger? I was meant to be _saving_ his life, along with so many others. If we became anything more than friends, would he become a target? Harry had ended things with Ginny for that very reason, so wouldn't it be wise for me to do the same before it even began?

But… God, was I reading too much into the kiss? I licked my lips, tasting the same familiar spearmint. I knew full well that Sirius had quite a reputation with women. Had he simply been vulnerable and I was the first witch available to console him? Had he just been hoping for a quick snog?

Of course he had, I decided. It hadn't meant anything at all. I was new—an interesting novelty to add to his collection.

Friends. It had meant nothing, and we were only friends.

This revelation made me feel even more wretched.

"Are you okay?" a small voice asked.

I looked up from my reverie, sniffling and wiping tears from my face with my sleeve, to find a young redheaded boy staring curiously at me from the opposite side of the gate.

A four-year-old Charlie Weasley—or at least, I assumed it was.

"Er—hi. Sorry, I think I'm at the wrong house. I'll just be going now…"

"Are you a Muggle?" Charlie interrupted.

I couldn't help but laugh at his naivety as I wiped a bit of snot from my nose. "You know, you can't just ask people if they're a Muggle or not." Charlie's ears went scarlet. "But for the record, no, I'm not," I said kindly. "I'm a witch."

"That's good, 'cause I'm a wizard," Charlie said with a lopsided grin. "Want to help me name my new dragon?" He held out a stuffed Norwegian Ridgeback with both hands. "Uncle Bilius just sent it to me today."

My hand moved to unlatch gate, but I hesitated briefly.

What was I doing? I shouldn't be here.

_Reckless._

I opened the gate and stepped into the back garden. I felt a ripple of magic around me, and I thanked God that the Weasley's protective enchantments had allowed me entrance. I knelt so that I was at eye level with Charlie.

"Well first of all, do you know what kind of dragon you have?" He shook his head, red ringlets spilling into his eyes. "See these black ridges along its tail?" I reached out and ran a finger along the stuffed dragon. "That means it's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're a pretty rare breed—very hard to find in the wild. Is yours a boy or a girl?"

"A boy, of course. Why would I want a girl dragon?" Charlie asked, frowning in disgust.

"Girls aren't all that bad," I replied with a laugh. "You know, I met a Norwegian Ridgeback once." His eyes widened in amazement. "I watched him hatch from an egg and everything. The eggs are just as black as their ridges. He was a feisty little thing." _That's putting it lightly._ "His name was Norbert. Do you think Norbert might be a good name for yours?"

Charlie hummed as he considered it. "Norbert..." he repeated. "I love it!"

I laughed again. "So now that we know that your dragon has a name, what's yours?"

"I'm Charles Weasley," he said, puffing out his chest proudly. "But everybody calls me Charlie. What about you?"

"Pleased to meet you, Charlie," I said, reaching out to shake his small hand. "I'm Hermione. So do you like dragons?"

"Dragons are the best!" he exclaimed. "How could anybody _not_ like dragons? They can—"

But before he could finish, he was interrupted. "Charles Florinus Weasley, didn't I tell you to wash up for dinner?" a very familiar voice called.

Both Charlie and I looked up to find Mrs. Weasley striding towards us. I stood up quickly.

"Sorry, mum," Charlie replied. "Hermione was just helping me name my new dragon."

Mrs. Weasley looked extremely alarmed to find a strange witch in her yard conversing with her young son. "I'm very sorry, Mrs. Weasley," I said quickly as she reached us. "I seem to be a little lost."

"Charlie," Mrs. Weasley said sharply. "Go inside and make sure your brother has the table set." Charlie gave me a quick grin before scurrying away, and Mrs. Weasley's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And you are?"

"Hermione Granger-Dumbledore, ma'am," I replied a little timidly, remembering the famous Weasley temper. I used my new surname in the hope that she would feel less wary of me if she knew I was related to Albus Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore?" she asked. "Surely not Aberforth's daugher?" I nodded, and when she saw my surprise, she added, "My husband works at the Ministry. He's heard talk of you. What on earth brings you to Devon?"

"I was looking for, er—" I floundered for a believable excuse. "Xenophilius Lovegood. I know he lives nearby, but I got a little turned around."

"Xeno?" she asked. "Well you weren't too far off. He lives just over the way." She gestured behind her to the rolling hills in the distance. "But Pandora—his wife, you know—was over for tea yesterday, and she said they were going on holiday to Sweden. Something for Xeno's loony magazine… researching Crunky-Snorhats or something of the sort."

"Crumple-Horned Snorkacks," I corrected, unable to help myself. She raised her eyebrows. "I had a friend that was a big fan of _The Quibbler,"_ I added hastily, not wanting her to think I was as wacky as the Lovegoods. As much as I loved Luna, her family was very eccentric, and along with Uncle Al's barmy-but-genius reputation, believing in nonexistent magical creatures wouldn't do me many favors.

"Anyhow, they won't be back for the next few weeks," she said, then eyed me sympathetically. "Why don't you stay for dinner, dear? It's getting quite late, so you can use the Floo after if you need to."

I was torn. I wanted so badly to say yes. The Burrow and Mrs. Weasley's cooking sounded wonderfully comforting, but I also didn't want to intrude or take advantage of her hospitality.

I was a stranger, after all.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, but I shouldn't—"

"Nonsense!" she said brightly. "Any relation of Professor Dumbledore is a friend of ours. My husband will be home from work soon and we just love having guests over. Why don't you come inside?" I nodded silently as I followed her to the back door of the place I'd once considered something like home. "And call me Molly," she said as she opened the door. "We aren't too far apart in age."

My breath caught in my throat and I struggled to suppress the onslaught of memories as I gazed around the tiny kitchen. Charlie was standing on a stepstool, attempting to wash his hands beneath the tap, but much more water was ending up down his front than on his hands. Bill Weasley, six-years-old and with hair much shorter than I'd ever seen it in my future, was placing plates around the table. Baby Percy was sitting quietly on the floor, playing with a Muggle toy truck. All three boys looked up when we entered.

"You've already met Charlie," said Mrs. Weasley, nodding to her second-oldest son. Charlie gave me a watery wave, sending droplets flying around the kitchen. "This my oldest, Bill. Go ahead and add an extra plate, sweetheart." Bill gave me a grin, two front teeth missing, before going to fetch another place setting from the cupboard. Mrs. Weasley—wait, _Molly_ , I corrected myself—scooped up her youngest son from the ground. "And this is Percy. How old are you, Percy?"

Percy struggled for a moment before pointing a finger to me. "Won," he said, waving his tiny hand around.

Molly beamed. "Exactly. One year old!" she said proudly as she slid him into a highchair near the end of the table. "Boys, this is my friend, Hermione."

_My friend._

I almost cried again.

"It's lovely to meet you all," I said, looking around to all three boys.

"Hello, Hermione," Bill replied politely while Percy babbled incoherently.

"Sit by me, 'Mione!" Charlie shouted, pulling out a chair for me.

"Why, what a gentleman," I said, smiling at Charlie. "I'd love to sit next to you." I turned to Molly. "Mrs—um, Molly, do you need any help with dinner?"

"Don't be silly, you're our guest," she said, shaking her head. "Go ahead and sit, everything is almost ready."

"Molly, dear, I'm home. And what a day I've had. Mundungus Fletcher with those strangling neckties again…" Mr. Weasley was standing in the doorway, looking weary.

"Arthur!" said Molly happily as her husband closed the door. She hurried over to give him a quick kiss before saying, "We have a guest for dinner tonight."

Mr. Weasley glanced around the kitchen until his eyes landed on me. "What a surprise! I don't think we've met. Arthur Weasley."

"Hermione Granger-Dumbledore, sir," I said politely, holding out a hand to the man that had been like a second father to me.

His eyes widened as he shook it. "Aberforth's daughter from across the pond?"

"Yes, sir," I replied. "I'm so sorry to intrude on your dinner, Mr. Weasley. I know you must be tired after a long day at work."

He waved his hand dismissively. "No, no, not intruding. Call me Arthur." He gestured for me to sit, and Charlie grinned widely as I took the seat next to him. "So, the word around the Ministry is that you were raised by Muggles?" Arthur asked as he took the seat at the head of the table.

_Typical Mr. Weasley._

I grinned. "My mum was a Muggle."

"Brilliant!" Arthur replied. "Now, I have a few questions. I've heard that Muggles have something called _cassette tapes_. Some sort of ribbon with music..."

_Home._

* * *

As I ate at my dinner, I studied the couple that in my nonexistent future, I'd considered to be my 'wizard-parents'. I'd loved my own mum and dad, of course, and we'd connected in our own way. However, they were Muggles, and as I'd grown older and more ensconced in the wizarding world, they had found it harder and harder to relate. After many summers visiting the Burrow (and Grimmauld Place), Molly and Arthur Weasley had essentially become a second set of parents to me.

When I was thirteen, Molly had been the one to buy me _Magda's Magical Maxipads_ after I'd gotten my first period while staying at The Leaky Cauldron. "Don't worry about it, dearie. Magda makes the most absorbent out there. I'll get you a few boxes of tampons too, just to make sure you're set while at school."

At fourteen, Arthur had consoled me when my parents had been unhappy with me leaving for the rest of the summer to attend the Quidditch World Cup. "Sweetheart, they're only sad because they miss you," he'd said as I cried on his shoulder. "They feel like outsiders because you're magical, but they love you, and I promise, they'll never stop. That's what it means to be a parent."

At fifteen, Molly had given Ginny and me the 'sex talk'. We'd both cringed and giggled uncomfortably as she sat us down in the dark, dank bedroom we'd shared at Grimmauld Place. "I'm not going to be 'that mum,'" she'd said matter-of-factly. "You both know my opinions. I want you to wait many, _many_  years for this, but I also want you to be safe. Now there are two potions and a charm you should know—"

At seventeen, Arthur had hugged me tightly outside of his shed a few days before Bill and Fleur's wedding. "I know you, Ron, and Harry are planning to leave soon," he'd said, voice tight with emotion. "And I'm not going to try to convince you to stay like Molly, but just know that we both love you very much. We've thought of you as one of ours for many years, so please, be _safe_. Take care of our two boys." He'd then pulled away and grasped one of my hands in his, patting it kindly with the other. "And I know Ron can be a bit thick, but my son cares about you more than he knows how to say."

I chewed my potatoes slowly, taking it all in. Bill and Charlie were arguing across the table about the most recent Quidditch match between the Winborn Wasps and the Appleby Arrows. ("Yeah, but did you see the new beater for the Wasps? Bagman can hit a Bludger harder than anyone in the league!") Molly was very pretty at twenty-six, slightly plump, but glowing with happiness. Her long, fiery red hair, exactly as Ginny's had been, was pulled back in a low ponytail. Arthur reminded me of a strange mixture of the Bill and Ron I had known—though still tall and thin, he was far from the balding wizard of my future, but instead rather handsome. I smiled as he gazed lovingly at his wife, who had just finished recounting her day.

"So Hermione," Arthur said after taking a sip of Elderflower wine. "What do you do?"

"Er, I'm in my final year of Hogwarts. But don't worry," I added hastily, seeing their shocked expressions. "I'm actually a year older than most seventh years, so Uncle Albus gave me special permission to leave the castle today."

"Goodness, you had us worried there for a second," said Molly. "So you must have met my brother! Gideon Prewett—he's the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year."

"Uncle Gideon is the best!" Bill interjected. "Always brings us sweets when he visits."

"I just had my first lesson with him on Friday," I said, smiling at Bill. "No sweets for us, sadly, but he seems like he's going to be a great teacher."

"Well of course he is!" Molly said proudly as she spooned mashed vegetables into Percy's waiting mouth. "He and Fabian were top of their class at the Auror Academy. I told him it was foolish to accept the position. Not many Defense professors last very long, but I reckon he's safer there than at the Auror Office…" she trailed away, looking distressed.

"Molly, you said it yourself. Gideon and Fabian are both brilliant at their job. They'll be perfectly safe," said Arthur consolingly.

"So what is it that you do at the Ministry?" I asked Arthur, accepting a refill of wine from him. Molly, I noticed, was drinking only water.

"I work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department," he replied. "It's a small department, but I couldn't be happier. You wouldn't believe the sort of things Muggles get their hands on. Muggle-baiting is at an all time high these days…"

I sipped my wine contentedly as Arthur described a particularly exciting raid from the week before. Percy was babbling happily in his highchair, mouth smeared green with mashed peas. The two older Weasley children were slumped sleepily in their chairs, evidently knackered from their Quidditch talk and hearty meal.

"Time for bed, I think," Molly said, noticing her two dozing sons. Bill and Charlie both began to protest. "No, no, it's getting late, boys." She picked up Percy from his highchair before turning to me. "Won't you stick around for a bit longer, Hermione? I'll be back down in just a bit."

"Why don't I help you put the boys to bed?" I asked, hoping I wasn't overstepping.

She smiled gratefully. "That would be wonderful."

"Come on, Hermione, I'll show you my room!" Charlie said excitedly, grabbing my hand as I stood.

"Lead the way!"

* * *

Charlie's bedroom was on the first floor in the room that would one day belong to Ginny. The floor was strewn with books on magical creatures and a Pride of Portree poster was tacked over his bed. Once he had pulled on his hippogriff-patterned pajamas and crawled into bed, he yawned widely and said, "Tell me a story about the dragon you met, Hermione."

I grinned. "Which one?"

"You've met more than one?" he asked excitedly.

I laughed. "Well you know the Norwegian Ridgeback I told you about? Norbert?" He nodded. "Like I said, I got to watch him hatch from an egg, but you know what we found out a few years later? Norbert wasn't a Norbert at all, he was _Norberta._ Turns out we were mistaken and she was a girl."

Charlie frowned. "I sure hope that doesn't happen to my Norbert…" he said worriedly.

"I doubt it will," I said, tucking the little stuffed Norbert beneath the blanket next to him. "Now, close your eyes and I'll tell you about the time I _rode_ a dragon…"

* * *

Not even five minutes later, I joined Molly and Arthur in the sitting room. The wireless was tuned to the Wizarding Wireless Network, and Molly was humming along to the music as she knitted what appeared to be a tiny indigo jumper. They both looked up as I entered.

"I hope he wasn't too much trouble?" asked Molly.

"Out like a light before I even finished his bedtime story," I replied with smile. "He really likes dragons, doesn't he?"

Arthur laughed. "Obsessed, more like. My brother Bilius has been doing research at the dragon preserve in Wales. Charlie thinks it's the coolest job in the world."

"No wonder your brother never married," Molly said with a sniff. "A dangerous job like that…"

I had to hold in my laughter, knowing her son would have the exact same profession in the future.

"Have a seat," Arthur said, gesturing to an armchair. "There's enough wine left for one more glass before you leave."

"I'd love to," I said before taking the seat in front of the fireplace. He poured two glasses and levitated one to me. "Thank you for your hospitality this evening," I added as I accepted the glass. He waved his hand dismissively, but I shook my head. "No, really. You both have been so kind. Molly, I know it must have been a fright to find a stranger in your garden. I'm surprised you didn't hex me on the spot."

She laughed as she laid down her knitting. "I considered it, but our protective enchantments wouldn't have let you pass if you meant us any ill-will. Honestly, you looked like you needed a home-cooked meal and someone to talk to."

I smiled, reminded of how perceptive she'd always been. "You were right," I replied. "I—"

But I was cut off by a sharp gasp from Molly. "Arthur!" she shrieked, clutching her chest, her knitting falling from her lap as she leapt to her feet. '"Arthur, look!" She was pointing to the mantle, looking utterly terrified.

I followed her gaze to family clock, which was hung on the wall above the fireplace, just as it had been in the future. Like the one on the shelf in Gideon's office, the clock had nine hands, one for each member of the Prewett and Weasley family. My stomach seemed to disappear as I found the cause of her alarm.

The hand belonging to Fabian Prewett was pointing to _"mortal peril."_

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): This chapter was so fun to write, especially the young Weasley children. I'm a huge fan of the Weasley family, and even in a Sirius/Hermione story, I felt like it would be wrong not to include them, especially seeing as how Gideon is already an important character. Please comment and let me know what you think!
> 
> -liz


	15. Mortal Peril

* * *

**Chapter 15: Mortal Peril**

* * *

"The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution."  
— _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone,_ J.K. Rowling

* * *

Arthur and I both sprang to our feet. "Molly, dear," he said, grasping both of her hands in his as she began to hyperventilate. "Don't panic. We don't know anything for sure yet."

Tears were streaming down Molly's cheeks, and I turned back to stare at Fabian's hand on the clock, my mind working frantically as I debated the best course of action. _Mortal peril—_ so was he injured during work for the Ministry or for the Order? If it was a mission for the Order gone awry, contacting the Ministry might result in awkward questions and possible repercussions. The last thing the Order needed was an official inquiry. So that only leaves—

_Dumbledore._

Dumbledore would be able to help, either way.

"Stay here," I said firmly to Molly and Arthur. "Don't go anywhere or contact anyone yet. I'll be right back."

Before they could object, I sprinted from the sitting room and through the kitchen to the back door of the Burrow. I took a deep, calming breath as I opened it and pointed my wand into the dark garden, summoning the happiest memory I could muster. Although my kiss with Sirius was happy on the surface, the memory was muddled by far too many complicated emotions to be strong enough. My mind landed on this afternoon with Aberforth— _"How would you feel about taking the name Ariana?"_

" _Expecto patronum_ _!"_ I whispered forcefully. The familiar silver otter erupted from the tip of my wand and did a quick somersault in midair before landing expectantly in front of me. I then muttered _"Expecto_ _nuntium,"_ the incantation to morph the guardian into a messenger, and brandished my wand from the otter to the night sky above us. "Go to Albus Dumbledore," I told my Patronus quietly. "Tell him: _'Fabian Prewett is in mortal danger and must be located immediately. I am currently at the home of Molly and Arthur Weasley. Please respond as quickly as possible with Fabian's status.'"_

The otter rose up and nuzzled my cheek before zooming off into the night. I prayed it had worked. I ran back to the sitting room to find Molly and Arthur arguing heatedly.

"We need to contact the Auror Office, Arthur! They'll know where he is!"

"Molly—" Arthur began, but I cut him off.

"No, we can't go to the Ministry just yet. He may have been hurt during an Auror mission, or he…" I broke off, searching the faces of both Weasleys for any sign of understanding.

Arthur gave me a significant, knowing look before finishing my sentence. "Or he might have been injured on assignment for the Order of the Phoenix," he said quietly.

"What?" said Molly in a strangled whisper. "He's working with Dumbledore? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"They both are," Arthur replied. "They didn't want to worry you—"

"Didn't want to _worry_ me?" Molly interrupted shrilly. "I'm worried about them either way! I can't believe you would keep something like this from me!"

Arthur looked ashamed, knowing his wife had a point.

"I've contacted Uncle Albus," I said, breaking the tension. "I informed him that Fabian is in danger and asked him to let us know what's going on as soon as possible. We can't do anything else until he responds."

Molly collapsed onto the sofa, crying into her hands. Arthur sat beside her, rubbing her back in soothing circles. "Maybe we should contact Gideon?" he asked me quietly.

I shook my head. "No, there's no way of knowing where he is. His hand only reads 'work.' He may be at Hogwarts, but if he's on the same mission as Fabian, and my message gave away his position..." I trailed away, and he nodded gravely before turning back to console his wife.

"I'll go make some tea," I murmured before departing to the kitchen. I fetched the kettle from the hob and refilled it beneath the tap; performing tasks without the help of magic felt therapeutic, calming even. It reminded me of my own mother. Like the proper Englishwoman she was, Helen Granger's response to any news, whether good or bad, was a scalding hot cup of tea. I tapped my wand to the kettle and leaned against the counter, thinking as I waited for the water to boil.

_Fabian wasn't supposed to die yet._

On the original Strand of Time, Dolohov had murdered Fabian and Gideon sometime in 1980 or 1981. Had this situation occurred the first go-round or had my presence here somehow altered the timeline of events?

But how was that even possible?

This was just another point to add to my list of things to discuss with Dumbledore. The magic of the Sands of Time was immensely complex and scarcely understood. This was something I couldn't work out on my own. I sighed as I gathered my hair into a ponytail and began to search for a tea tray.

* * *

We were halfway through our cups of tea, Molly thankfully no longer in hysterics, when Dumbledore's reply finally arrived. A blinding burst of fire erupted midair in the center of the Burrow's sitting room and a scroll of parchment fell to the coffee table between us, accompanied by a single phoenix feather.

"Fawkes!" I cried, jumping from my seat and hastily snatching up the parchment. "It's Dumbledore's reply," I said aloud, recognizing the Headmaster's narrow, slanted writing from his many letters to Harry. "He says to meet him at St. Mungo's."

Both Weasleys rose immediately. "There's Floo Powder in the kitchen," Arthur said, taking his wife's hand. I followed them both to the kitchen fireplace. "I'm going to stay back with the children," he continued.

"Wait, no!" I said immediately. "I can stay here. You should—"

"No," he said firmly, shaking his head. "You were the one to contact your uncle. You're our only hope of getting more information."

Molly looked torn, but quickly conceded. She then grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder and tossed it into the flames, which turned emerald-green instantly. She stepped into the fire and said "St. Mungo's Hospital!" before vanishing from sight.

"Hermione," Arthur said, gesturing to the fireplace.

I hesitated. "Arthur, are you sure?"

He looked worried, but resolute. "Positive. Just please take care of my wife. Now go on."

I nodded and stepped into the flames. "St. Mungo's Hospital!" I cried, and the Burrow's kitchen disappeared in rush of green.

I stumbled out of the fireplace into the brightly lit reception area of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. It was far less crowded than the last time I'd visited, likely due to the lateness of the hour. I glanced around, looking for Molly or Dumbledore, and found Molly arguing with the witch behind the Inquiries desk.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't have any information on a Fabian Prewett at this time. Now, if you'll take a seat, I'm sure someone will—"

"But you must! He's supposed to be here!" Molly interjected frantically.

I rushed forward and placed a hand on her arm. "Molly, let's just sit," I told her quietly.

Molly shot the witch behind the desk a scathing look before shrugging her arm from my grasp and turning around abruptly. She stalked away and collapsed into a rickety wooden chair with her head in her hands.

"Are you sure you don't know anything?" I asked the Welcome Witch. She shook her head and apologized once more. I sighed heavily and turned to join Molly, but the portrait over the Inquiries desk suddenly caught my eye. The occupant, an elderly witch with long silver curls, had just returned to her portrait and was staring at me pointedly. She raised her thin eyebrows and gave me a curt nod, and I glanced down at the golden plaque at the bottom of her frame: _Dilys Derwent,_ once a Healer here at St. Mungo's and a previous Headmistress of Hogwarts.

A whoosh from the fireplace caused me to spin around. Albus Dumbledore was emerging from the emerald-green flames, brushing soot from his midnight-blue robes.

"Uncle Albus!" I exclaimed without thinking. Molly jumped up and we both hurried over to him.

"Good evening, Molly, Hermione" he said with a grim smile, nodding to each of us in turn. "I apologize for keeping you waiting."

"Where is he, Headmaster?" Molly asked desperately.

"He should be here any moment. Alastor Moody has informed me that Auror Prewett was stabilized in the field, but I have no further news at this time."

"He was with Mad-Eye..." I murmured under my breath. Molly seemed not to hear me, but Dumbledore gave me a strange look. "So was he on a mission with the Aurors or…?" I trailed away questioningly.

"No, he was not working with the Auror Office when he sustained his injuries," Dumbledore said quietly. I heard a sharp intake of breath from Molly. "We hope to keep his exact whereabouts this evening quiet for the time being. Molly, I suggest you take a seat while we wait." He then turned to me. "Hermione, may I have a quick word?"

Before waiting for my response, he led me to a small, vacant room off of the reception area and closed the door behind us. The walls were painted in a soothing sky blue, and I had a feeling that this room was designating for delivering bad news.

"If you don't mind, I think it would be wise use the brilliant little charm you performed the morning we met in the Hospital Wing," he said in a hushed tone. "You never know who might be listening."

I nodded and cast the _Muffliato_ charm nonverbally. He sat in one of the wooden chairs and gestured for me to do the same.

"I must say, I was quite surprised to receive your Patronus," he said as I took my seat. "And not only because the incantation for that particular usage is one of my own creations and not widely known. Would you mind telling me why you did not return to the castle this evening?"

"Er—Sorry about that, Professor. It was a rash decision on my part. I was feeling…" I bit my lip, trying to decide how to explain. "Very overwhelmed. The Burrow had been very important to me in my future, so it was just the first place I thought of."

"Understandable," Dumbledore said with a nod. He didn't look angry, but instead rather concerned. He was silent, waiting for me to continue.

"I didn't intend to stay long or even speak to the Weasleys, but Charlie saw me outside the gate, and once I told Molly my surname, she invited me in for dinner. I couldn't refuse. She and Arthur…" I broke off, voice wrought with emotion. "Their son Ron was my best friend. They treated me as one of their own children for years… I just _had_ to see them, even if they didn't know me yet."

"I suppose I cannot fault you," Dumbledore replied. "But in the future, I advise you to keep in mind that although your situation is unique, you are technically still a student of Hogwarts. If you find reason to extend your leave from the castle, a professor must be informed."

I shifted guiltily in my seat and nodded mutely.

"Now, onto more important matters," said Dumbledore, eyeing me over his half-moon spectacles. "I am curious as to how you knew of Auror Prewett's predicament before any members of the Order of the Phoenix."

"The Weasley clock," I answered simply. He raised his eyebrows. "Or perhaps it's more accurate to call it the Prewett clock, seeing as Molly's father created it. It's a magical clock showing the location of each member of the family. I was in the sitting room with Molly and Arthur when Fabian's hand switched to 'mortal peril.' I knew we shouldn't go to the Ministry first, so I decided to contact you."

"A wise decision," he commended. "Fabian was on duty for the Order this evening, keeping watch on Lestrange Manor." I gasped at the news—it felt like ages since my run in with Rodolphus, but in reality it was only hours ago. "I take it you understand the gravity of the matter. It seems he was found by Rabastan Lestrange, inciting a duel. Thanks to your message, Alastor Moody was able to extract Fabian before the situation escalated further."

"Thank Merlin for Mad-Eye…" I muttered.

"Mad-Eye?" inquired Dumbledore curiously.

I grimaced at my blunder. Moody must still have both normal eyeballs at this point.

"Er, I guess he won't be Mad-Eye for a few more years, then," I replied. "But why was Fabian on duty alone? I was under the impression that the Order always operated in pairs, at the very least."

"Fabian and Gideon have been partners since joining the Order two years ago. However, after accepting the teaching post, Gideon has had more pressing obligations at Hogwarts. Our numbers have grown alarmingly small and no other members could be spared this evening."

"Well I sure hope this has shown the importance of having backup. Fabian could have died!"

"I am very aware, Hermione," Dumbledore said sharply. I shrank back in my chair, and his expression softened. "In the future, I will personally ensure no one is left without support."

"Uncle Albus," I said quietly. He looked surprised, but also rather pleased to hear me call him this in private. "You said the Order needs more members. I would like to join."

He sighed. "It would have been foolish of me to not expect this. However, you are not yet a fully qualified witch, and—"

"I don't care," I interrupted, "and neither should you. I've seen more than most members, and I know information that can help. You won't have to tell anyone my real story, but I can't imagine _not_ joining the organization that's fighting for the very cause that brought me here."

He closed his eyes momentarily as if mulling over my words. "Continuing to deny your request would ignite a battle neither of us wish to fight. You may join." I beamed at him. "However," he continued, looking stern. "You and I have been tasked with a mission that supersedes all others. You are far too valuable to lose, so I will allow you join on the condition that you not participate in any situations I deem too dangerous."

"Fair enough," I conceded grudgingly.

Who was he to decide what is 'too dangerous' for me? Doesn't he know all I've done?

_No, he doesn't,_ the nasty little Tom Riddle-like voice in my head reminded me. _He has no idea. He'll never understand what you've endured._

"Now that everything is settled, I suggest we join Molly," he said with finality.

* * *

It didn't take long for Fabian to arrive.

Mad-Eye—no, Moody, I amended—entered through the main entrance of the hospital, levitating a Disillusioned Fabian on a stretcher. Molly rushed to his side immediately.

"Give him space, Molly," growled Moody, tapping his wand to the top of Fabian's head and removing the Disillusionment Charm. "He's stable, but we need to get him to a Healer."

Molly backed away, wringing her hands, but her eyes never strayed from her unconscious brother. Fabian Prewett looked dreadful. His robes were torn to shreds and his torso was covered in ghastly half-healed gashes. Blood seeped from his wounds, and I could sense the dark magic radiating from them. Were they caused by _Sectumsempra?_ If they were, I could only conclude that Severus was far more involved with Voldemort than I had originally thought. Fabian's wrists were burnt and bruised from the ropes I assumed had bound him. His nose also appeared to be broken, judging by his bloodstained face and the large purples bruises blossoming around his eyes.

A group of Healers in lime-green robes rushed from the double doors beside the Inquiries desk and quickly transferred him to a hospital stretcher.

"We've got it from here, Auror Moody. We'll send someone out as soon as we can," a Healer said before whisking their new patient away.

"Alastor, what happened?" Molly asked as Moody sank tiredly into one of the chairs in the waiting area.

Alastor Moody looked much younger and much less scarred than the Mad-Eye I had known. Besides the obvious absence of his magical eye, his nose was still fully intact and he hadn't yet lost this leg. He seemed to have sustained only a few minor cuts and scrapes during his rescue mission.

Moody looked to Dumbledore as if asking whether he was permitted to answer. Dumbledore nodded and said, "Hermione, the charm again, if you please."

I cast the _Muffliato_ charm again under Moody's curious stare. His gaze was much less intimidating without the violently blue magical eye X-raying me.

"I don't know much," Moody said gruffly. "Just that his surveillance went sideways when he was spotted by the youngest Lestrange brother. Bloody bastard Disapparated on the spot when I showed up, so I've got no evidence against him. If I hadn't Apparated smack on top of a thorn bush, I might've gotten him." He grimaced his disappointment. "Fabian was still awake when I got there, but I didn't get much out of him before he lost consciousness. Rabastan had him bound to a tree, the sadistic son of a—"

His voice was drowned out by a low wail from Molly. I put an arm around her comfortingly, and she sobbed into my shoulder.

"Molly, he'll be alright," Moody said. "I managed to stop the bleeding for the most part, and the Healers'll do the rest."

She sat up and mopped her cheeks with her sleeve before nodding silently. Dumbledore conjured a lilac handkerchief and handed it to her. She thanked him softly.

"My question, Albus," Moody continued. "Is how you knew to go after him? He wasn't scheduled with a partner, was he?"

"Ah, from what Hermione has told me, Molly and her brilliant clock are to thank."

Moody raised his thick, dark eyebrows in surprise, and Molly explained.

"But really, all thanks should go to Hermione," she finished, dabbing her eyes with the handkerchief again. "She knew what do immediately. I don't know what we would have done if you weren't there to contact Professor Dumbledore."

I shrugged and ducked my head shyly.

"Molly, you are no longer my student, so I must ask you to address me as Albus. Yes, it was very fortunate indeed that my niece stumbled upon your home this evening, and even luckier that you opened your doors to her."

"Niece, eh?" Moody asked. "So I finally get to meet old Ab's daughter. Call me Alastor." He extended a hand to me in greeting.

"Pleased to meet you, Alastor," I replied as I shook his scarred, calloused hand.

"Well, I must return to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, standing suddenly. "Hermione, you may return as soon as you see fit. You are excused from lessons tomorrow." I gave him a small smile, relieved that I wouldn't have to rush back to the castle. "Alastor, I would be grateful for a status update later on tonight." Moody grunted in acknowledgement. Dumbledore turned to Molly and gave her a small bow. "Molly, please do not hesitate to contact me if you require any assistance whatsoever." Molly thanked him profusely before Dumbledore bid us goodnight and swept away, exiting through the front of the hospital rather than using the Floo.

"I guess all we can do now is wait?" I said, disrupting the silence Dumbledore left behind.

* * *

Not even thirty minutes later, someone familiar stumbled out of the fireplace.

"Where is he?" Gideon Prewett shouted, looking around the reception area frantically. His eyes were terrified, panicked. "Where's my brother?"

Molly quickly stood and rushed to tackle him in a hug. "Oh, Gideon! I'm so glad you're here!" she said, voice tearful again.

"Where is he?" he repeated, hugging her back tightly.

Moody stood before answering. "The Healers are patching him up now. We're waiting for an update, but he'll be okay."

Gideon slumped against his sister in relief. "He'll be okay," he repeated, eyes slightly out of focus. Molly led him to join our vigil, and he sat, rubbing a hand across his face. "He'll be okay. He'll be okay. But... what happened?"

Moody briefed him quietly, nodding to me when he reached the end. "Your sister saw he was in danger on that clock of hers, and Hermione sent a Patronus to Albus. Bloody lucky she was there."

"I wasn't in the castle tonight or I might have noticed his hand change too…" Gideon muttered, but then he looked up suddenly, seeming to notice me for the first time. "Hermione?" he asked, eyes wide. "But, what—why aren't you at school? Why were you at the Burrow, of all places?"

"I had some matters to attend to this evening," I replied vaguely, ignoring his last question. He opened his mouth, likely to repeat the question again, but Molly cut him off.

"She was lost, so I invited her to stay for dinner. And I'm so grateful I did." She smiled warmly at me.

"But—" he began, but he fell silent at the look I gave him. He narrowed his eyes, but didn't probe any further.

"The family of Fabian Prewett?" a voice called from the doors leading to the rest of the hospital. Gideon and Molly leapt to their feet and all but ran to the Healer. Moody and I stood as well, but we kept a respectful distance so the family could receive any news first.

The relief on their faces was evident even from across the room. Molly rushed back to us while Gideon continued to speak to the Healer. "He's awake! Alastor, he's asking for you." I made to return to my seat, but Molly quickly took my hand. "No, come with us. He'll want to meet the person responsible for saving his life."

* * *

Moody and I waited outside the door of Fabian's hospital room to allow Gideon and Molly the chance to see him first. The corridor of the fourth floor was deserted except for a lone Healer, muttering to himself as he scribbled out notes on a patient chart.

"So, you sent a Patronus, eh?" Moody asked as he leaned against the wall of the corridor. "Advanced magic, that is." I shrugged and he continued. "A messenger Patronus at that. Albus's own invention…"

"He taught me," I lied defensively.

"He did, did he?" he asked with an amused smirk. I opened my mouth to retort, but was interrupted by Gideon opening the door to the hospital room.

"Come on in."

Fabian was sitting up in bed, propped on pillows and looking much better than he had when he arrived. He was still alarmingly pale, causing his freckles and orange hair to stand out shockingly. His nose had been mended, though the bruises remained. His chest and abdomen were covered in bandages, so I could only assume that the Healers had been successful in closing his wounds. Molly was sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his hand tightly, and I stood behind Moody as he, Gideon, and Fabian discussed the events of the evening.

"I have no fucking clue how Rabastan found me," he said, shaking his head, then wincing in pain. Molly opened her mouth to scold his foul language, but seemed to decide better of it. _"Homenum Revelio_ , most likely, but beats me how he knew to do it. I was Disillusioned, but he cast some sort of counter-spell to cancel it out. I didn't know it was even possible to do it from such a distance. I got off a few good spells before he hit me with a Cruciatus." Molly let out a small sob, and Fabian patted her hand, which was still grasping his, soothingly. "As soon as he released the curse, he got me with a Full Body-Bind. Apparently he was in the mood for a little fun rather than a quick kill."

I shuddered and muttered under my breath, "Taking a leaf out of Bellatrix's book..."

"You got that right, missy," Moody growled. I guess I'd said it louder than intended. Everyone turned to me.

Fabian eyed me curiously. "Er—not to be rude or anything, but who the hell are you?" he asked.

I couldn't help but smile as Moody chuckled. "Lad, this is the witch that saved your life."

Fabian's eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, so Moody explained.

"Shit," Fabian breathed when Moody finished. "Well, thank you. I wouldn't have lasted much longer if Moody hadn't shown up."

I smiled, but didn't really know how to respond. 'You're welcome' didn't seem quite appropriate.

"Well, I'm off," Moody said, clapping Gideon on the back and nodding to Fabian. "Got to get an update to Albus. Rest up, Prewett. I'd better not see you in the office for at least a week."

Fabian scowled as Moody said his goodbyes to Gideon and Molly. As he made to leave, Moody winked at me. "Reckon I'll be seeing you sooner rather than later, Miss Dumbledore."

_What?_

"I should let Arthur know everything is fine," Molly said, standing to leave as well. "He's at home with the boys. I'll be back first thing in the morning, okay?" She gave both her brothers a kiss on the cheek before turning to me. "Please write soon. I have a feeling we could be great friends." I agreed, smiling as she gave me a hug before leaving.

"I should probably get back to the castle…" I said, feeling distinctly out of place as I realized I was alone with the two brothers.

"Wait, I think I have a right to get to know my savior before she runs off!" Fabian said, grinning at me. His smile reminded me of Fred Weasley. "Take a seat, Hermione."

"Yeah, take a seat. I have a few questions myself," Gideon added with something like a glare.

"Er, alright." I pulled a chair closer to Fabian's bedside and sat. Gideon did the same on the opposite side.

Fabian opened his mouth to speak, but Gideon interrupted.

"Why the hell were you at Molly's tonight?"

I stiffened. "It's like she said," I said through gritted teeth, annoyed by his accusatory tone. "I got a little turned around and ended up near the Burrow. I helped Charlie name his new stuffed dragon and stuck around for dinner. For the record, the dragon's name is Norbert."

"Bullshit," scoffed Gideon. "No one just ends up in Ottery St. Catchpole."

"Look, I don't know what you want me to say. Are you _mad_ that I was there? Angry that I was able to help get your brother to safety?"

"No, of course not, but—"

_I needed to get out of there. Fast._

"It's late," I said, checking my watch. "I should really head back to Hog—"

But then I realized my mistake. I clamped my mouth shut tightly and shook down my sleeve to cover my watch, but not before both brothers had gotten a good look.

"Hang on a minute…" Fabian said slowly. "I have a watch just like that." He held up his bruised wrist, displaying the same heavy gold watch as the one on my own wrist.

"It belonged to a friend of mine," I said defensively. "I'm sure there's a lot of them out there—"

"There isn't," Gideon said, cutting me off. "It belonged to our grandfather. Let me see your watch, Hermione."

"No. Absolutely not. This is ridiculous..."

"Hermione, you know I could take it from you if it comes to it."

_Fuck._

I unclasped the watch from my wrist. "Are you threatening a student with violence, Professor Prewett?" I asked sardonically as I passed it to him.

He shot me another glare before examining the watch face closely. Once satisfied, he turned it over in his hand and his eyes widened almost comically in shock. "Fabian…" he said slowly, holding it out for his brother to see.

Fabian's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Bugger me," he whispered. "It fell off during our final match against Ravenclaw…" He quickly removed his own watch and held them up together, side by side.

The two watches were identical in every way, right down to the damningly obvious dent on the back.

"Explain," Gideon demanded.

"I—I _can't,_ you don't understand…" I stuttered, at a complete loss.

"Then explain it to us, because this is pretty fucking strange," said Fabian, still gazing awestruck at the two watches.

I scrubbed my burning face with both hands. I wasn't cut out for this. Harry should have been the one tossed back in time, not me. He would know what to say. What lie could I possibly concoct this time?

_The truth,_ a little voice whispered in my head.

"Aurors are taught Occlumency during training, aren't they?" I asked them both.

They nodded.

"Fucking hell, Dumbledore isn't going to like this…" I muttered.

But I knew I had to do it.

"You aren't going to believe me," I warned.

"Try us," Gideon retorted.

I sighed heavily.

"I, well—this is going to sound insane, but I'm, er… from the future."

They both gaped, dumbstruck.

After a moment of thick silence, Fabian started laughing. "No really, what's going on?"

"I know, it sounds like the punch line of a bad joke, doesn't it? But it's true. For me, last week was 1998."

Fabian stopped laughing.

"Stop bullshitting us," he said, but he looked less sure now. Gideon was simply staring at me, blinking rapidly.

"I have no idea what I can say to make you trust me," I said, leaning back in my chair with a sigh. "And I can't _believe_ I actually told you. I literally just met one of you and the other is my _professor."_ I groaned exasperatedly and looked up to the ceiling. "How did this even happen? _Constant-bloody-vigilance, Hermione._ What a fucking joke…" I muttered to myself.

"What did you just say?" Gideon asked sharply.

"Er, what?" I asked, looking at him again and wondering if now was really the time to reprimand me for swearing, professor or not.

"You just met Alastor Moody tonight, right?" asked Gideon.

"Yes?"

"Then where did you hear that?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Alastor Moody."

He ran a hand through his bright red hair. "Where did you learn to duel?" he asked next.

"War," I replied simply.

"Tell me something else," he said quietly. "Anything else that might convince me."

"I didn't know you, but I knew Molly and Arthur well—they were like parents to me. They'll end up having seven children. Their sixth son, Ronald, was my best friend, ever since he saved me from a troll in our first year. And…" I trailed off, thinking. "I actually think she's pregnant now. With twins, but I don't think she knows that yet."

"She only just told us the news last week..." Fabian said softly. "She hasn't even told our parents yet. Twins? Really?"

"Twins," I confirmed. "Fred and George, possibly the best pair of pranksters Hogwarts will ever see."

Fabian laughed weakly, but Gideon hadn't stopped staring at me. It was becoming uncomfortable.

"How?" Gideon asked. "How in the name of Merlin did you travel back in time twenty years?"

"It's complicated. I don't know if I understand it enough to—"

"Try," he interrupted.

"I was fighting in a battle—a battle we were losing dismally. Someone cast the Killing Curse at me." I undid the top buttons of my shirt further to reveal the perfectly circular scar between my breasts left by the obliterated Time Turner. They both stared openly before I awkwardly folded my arms over my chest. "But instead of hitting me, the curse collided with the Time Turner around my neck. Next thing I know, I'm in the Great Hall, but it's empty. Well, except for Sirius."

"Wait, there was a battle in the castle?" Fabian asked.

I nodded grimly as I re-buttoned my Oxford.

"Bloody hell…" he muttered. "Where did you get a Time Turner? Those are heavily monitored by the Ministry, you know."

"Of course I know that," I replied, rolling my eyes. "And er, I might've nicked it."

"Nicked it?" Fabian asked, sounding approving. I responded with a vague shrug.

"Who cast the Killing Curse?" asked Gideon.

I gave him a hard stare. "Voldemort."

Their eyes widened in horror.

"Voldemort himself tried to kill you?" Gideon asked, aghast.

I nodded again.

"This war lasts another twenty years?" asked Fabian.

"No. He was sort of defeated in 1981, but then reborn in 1995."

"How is he defeated?" asked Fabian.

"I can't tell you that, mostly because it's not going to happen. I'm going to change it."

"Change it? How?" asked Gideon.

"I can't tell you that either. Look, neither of you can tell anyone what I've shared tonight. And when I say anyone, I _literally_ mean anyone. I'd ask you to make an Unbreakable Vow, but I think those are pretty barbaric…"

"We won't," Fabian said solemnly. "This is dangerous news. If anyone close to Voldemort finds out…"

"Exactly my point. Albus and Aberforth Dumbledore are the only ones that know the truth."

"I take it Aberforth isn't really your father?" Gideon asked.

"No, I'm Muggle-born, actually. Aberforth agreed to help with my cover story."

"Merlin's bollocks," Fabian said with a low whistle. "You were bloody right when you said we wouldn't believe it."

I laughed dryly. "I tried to warn you." I turned to Gideon. "Now, can I have my watch back?"

He looked down at the watch in his hand in surprise as if he'd forgotten he had it. "Oh, right." He handed it to me and I fastened back around my wrist. "So how did you end up with Fabian's watch, anyway?"

"Er, well, Molly gave it to my best friend for his seventeenth birthday. His parents were dead, so Molly and Arthur were the ones to give him the traditional coming-of-age gift."

They were both silent for a moment, eyes locked as if in silent conversation.

Gideon finally turned back to me. "We're dead, aren't we?"

My silence said it all.

"I thought so," he said, unsurprised. "I hope we went out fighting?"

"You took five Death Eaters down with you," I replied with a grim smile.

"Brilliant!" said Fabian, making light of the news.

"I plan for that not to happen, either," I told them resolutely.

Gideon grimaced. "As great as that sounds, don't fool yourself into thinking you can change it all. Some things are just inevitable."

I shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not."

His statement hit me harder than I let show.

Fabian looked at his watch, which he'd returned to wrist. "It's really fucking late. Hermione, why don't you just kip here? It's far too late to go back to the castle now."

"Here?" I asked, looking skeptically at the small sofa near the window.

"Yeah, here," Gideon said as he raised his wand and expanded the sofa slightly. "We can go back together in the morning. Pick a side." He then used the Gemino spell to create two duplicates of Fabian's pillow and blanket.

"Well, I suppose…" I said as he handed me mine. He shrugged out of his Auror robes, revealing trousers and a maroon jumper underneath. The maroon reminded me painfully of Ron, and guilt from my actions earlier in the evening prickled at the edges of my mind. Gideon and I kicked off our shoes, and I curled up on one side of the sofa while he took the other.

"Only an hour after meeting her, and the witch is already sleeping in my room," Fabian said through a yawn as he extinguished the lamps with his wand. "Except in my fantasies, I'm in a lot less pain and not covered in bandages."

"Nor is your brother there, I hope," Gideon added.

"And the witch is usually in my bed," Fabian finished.

I snorted in amusement. The familiarity I already felt with the two Prewett brothers was strange, to say the least.

The room was silent for a moment.

"You do know that this is really fucking weird, right?" I said into the darkness.

Gideon laughed good-naturedly. "Go to sleep, Hermione."

"Goodnight, Professor Prewett," I replied.

Fabian chuckled as Gideon nudged me with a blanket-covered foot.

* * *

Approximately a thousand kilometers away, Sirius Black paced back and forth in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. Nothing but moonlight and embers lit the deserted room. He paused as a clock near the staircases chimed the hour.

Three o'clock in the morning.

He groaned and scrubbed a hand across his tired face.

Sleep would not be finding him that night.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): As always, please comment and let me know what you think!


	16. Time and Magic

* * *

**Chapter 16: Time and Magic**

* * *

"I told you!" Ron hissed at Hermione as she stared down at the article. "I _told_ you not to annoy Rita Skeeter! She's made you out to be some sort of — of scarlet woman!"  
— _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix,_ J.K. Rowling

* * *

Warming rays of morning sunlight poured through the opened oak front doors of the castle, casting a cheerful glow throughout the Entrance Hall. I smiled as I glanced out at the school grounds. The weather outside was glorious—absolute perfection. I began to mentally plan an afternoon spent reading by the lake as I pushed open one of the heavy double doors of the Great Hall.

_Strange,_ I mused to myself as the hinges creaked to a stop. It was time for breakfast to be served. Why were the doors closed? Had I somehow overslept?

The room was pitch black except for a solitary candle at the far end of the Gryffindor table. An uneasy feeling washed over me as I peered inside. The unnatural darkness was ominous, suffocating. I turned to leave, but was met with nothing but solid wall. I ran a trembling hand over the cold stone.

The doors of the Great Hall were gone.

_What on earth was going on?_

I took a timid step into the dark hall. "Hello?" I called, my voice cracking slightly with fear.

I felt a sudden gust of icy wind swirl throughout the hall. My skirt fluttered around my thighs. Goose pimples erupted across my skin. A shadow shifted within the light emanating from the candle flame.

"Ottie?" a female voice answered from the across the room.

I froze, my racing heart leaping into my throat.

_Only two people had ever called me by that name._

It took a moment for me to find my voice. "Mum?" I managed to squeak.

Ever since my first outing to the London Zoo when I was a toddler, my favorite animal had been the otter, hence my parent's pet name for me—Ottie.

The figure at the end of the table moved out of the shadows so that the golden light of the candle illuminated her face. Even from a distance, there was no mistaking her.

"Mummy!" I cried, all caution forgotten as I sprinted down the row between the house tables. She wrapped her arms around me, her soft skin warm against mine. In her embrace, I felt _safe_ for the first time in ages—a cocoon where worry disappeared. I began to cry as the familiar fragrance of her preferred washing powder and the earthy, floral scent of her garden engulfed me.

_Roses. My mother always smelled of her prized roses._

"Mum," I sobbed. "I've missed you so much."

"Oh, Hermione," she cooed, squeezing me tightly to her. "I'm here, my sweet girl."

I stiffened.

_Here…_

"But Mum…" I whispered, pulling away to look her fully in the face. She smiled and kissed my forehead tenderly as I continued. _"How_ are you here? At Hogwarts? You're supposed to be…" I gasped as the memories returned. "Oh God, you and Dad should be in Australia!"

"We know," a deep voice boomed behind me.

I released my mother and spun around. Another candle had appeared, allowing me to see the long-missed face of my father. Richard Granger smiled down at me from behind the high table, standing in the very center where the Headmaster's chair should have been. He was exactly as I remembered—a tall, straight-backed former naval officer with flawlessly swept back salt-and-pepper hair.

"Dad? What—"

"We went, Hermione," said Mum, placing a hand on my shoulder. "We went to Australia, just as you planned. You kept us safe."

"But how do you know who I am?" I asked softly. The connections and synapses in my brain seemed to be in knots as I struggled to process what was happening. "You aren't supposed to remember me," I murmured.

"We joined a dental practice in Melbourne and began our new lives. We were happy, but we both felt as if something was missing. Like we had left a piece of us behind in Britain…" she trailed away, looking to her husband as if for help.

"You were always so brilliant," said Dad, eyes blazing with pride. "We knew you were different, even when you were just a small child. It was obvious that we could expect great things from you."

There were tears forming in his eyes now. I'd only ever seen my father cry once before—the day Professor McGonagall had delivered my Hogwarts letter.

He blinked and a tear fell down his freshly shaven cheek. He didn't brush it away.

"We just didn't know _how_ great."

"We don't blame you," my mum whispered, squeezing my shoulder firmly. "We're so proud of you, little Ottie. You were in an impossible position. You did what you had to in order to keep us safe."

She enveloped me in another hug, and as I pulled away, I noticed that the flickering of the candle seemed to be growing brighter. The golden light felt familiar, but for some reason, I couldn't place it.

"We both love you so much, poppet," said Dad, his voice gruff. I turned to him, but the outline of his form had begun to blur.

"Daddy?" I called to him. I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to clear my vision.

"We love you," he and Mum said together. His features grew muddled until he was completely unrecognizable. The aureate candlelight expanded, illuminating the entire hall.

I turned back to face my mother, but something wasn't right. Her features were rapidly changing—distorting perversely into my worst nightmare. Graying brown curls grew into deep black locks. Kind brown eyes shifted to heavily lidded, malevolent silver. Her smile transformed into a sinister sneer.

" _Oh my sweet, sweet little Mudblood. I was hoping we'd meet again."_

Reality seemed to shift to fast forward.

_**Pain.** _

_Fiery, agonizing pain._

_"You tried so hard, didn't you? You, that filthy blood traitor Weasley, and precious fucking Potter."_

_The flash of green colliding with red—_

_Ron._

_Warm, thrilling magic traveling down my arm, the lethal curse leaving my wand._

_"No!" shrieked the unmistakable high, cold voice from the front of the hall. Where my father had been only moments ago stood the horror I'd been dreading._

_The speeding jet of green light—_

_The Time Turner exploded._

_Blinding golden light, pain nearing unbearable._

_Make it stop._ _Oh please, make it stop._

_Too fast—_

"Hermione! Come on, love, wake up."

_My body was folding in on itself from the pressure. The pulsating light was now almost white, tinged scarlet with blood._

_I was going to die too, just like Harry and Ron._

_'Time and Magic, Hermione,' Tom Riddle hissed inside my head—half lovingly, half venomously. 'You are now forged of Time and Magic…'_

_Too fast—_

" **Hermione!"**

A pair of hands were grasping my upper arms tightly, shaking me awake. My eyes snapped open as my mind was wrenched violently from my nightmare. My breath came out in short, wheezing pants. My throat felt raw as if I'd just been screaming. My hands were clutching my face, fingernails digging painfully into my cheeks. I wasn't sure if the wetness there was tears or blood—or both.

Red hair flashed in front of me.

"Ron?" I gasped, throwing my arms around his neck and burying my face into his shoulder.

Merlin, I loved him so much.

I _needed_ him so much.

"Oh God, I just had the most horrid nightmare! I saw my parents, and somehow they remembered me. But then we…" The words seemed to catch momentarily in my throat. "We lost, Ron. We lost it all. Voldemort killed Harry, and then you—you…"

_Something wasn't right._

This person didn't feel like Ron—where Ron was all bones and sharp angles, this person was broad and muscular.

I started to pull away, but the man wrapped his arms around me, holding me close.

"Shh, Hermione, it's okay," he said, stroking my hair soothingly. "Ron isn't here, but I've got you."

_Gideon._

Ron wasn't here.

Because Ron was _dead._

_'Time and Magic, Hermione…'_

A shiver ran down my spine.

"We lost, Gideon," I whimpered pitifully, voice muffled by his jumper. "We lost. We fucking lost…"

"I know," he whispered, sounding heartbroken at my pain. "But not this time, okay? I promise, we won't this time."

I curled up beside him on the sofa, and he allowed me to sob into his shoulder for a few minutes before I finally found the strength to pull myself together.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, face ablaze with shame. "The nightmares… I didn't think—" I sniffed loudly and mopped my cheeks with the sleeve of my jumper.

There was blood there.

"Fuck, Hermione, don't apologize," said Gideon. It felt odd to hear my professor swear, especially in the light of day. But then again, Gideon wasn't _just_ my professor.

He was my friend—practically family.

"If I were in your shoes, I'd be a bloody basket case," Fabian chimed in groggily. I glanced over and saw that he was awake, still snuggled deep beneath his blankets, his head the only part of him visible.

"You've been through something awful," Gideon said, nodding in agreement. "No one else here could possibly understand. You have nothing to apologize for."

I nodded mutely.

"Here," he said gently. "Let me heal those scratches."

He tapped his wand to both of my cheeks in turn. My face grew warm and I felt the queer sensation of my skin knitting itself back together.

“Thank you,” I whispered, voice still rough and raspy. I hoped he knew that I wasn’t just thanking him for the healing spell, and I could tell from the affectionate smile he gave me that he understood.

"It's a little past six," he said, checking his watch. "What time is your first lesson?"

_Only three hours of sleep?_

No wonder I felt like rubbish.

"Actually, before Uncle Albus left last night, he excused me from lessons today."

Gideon chuckled. "Well, you may be able to nap all morning, but I need to prepare for my third years at nine o'clock."

"Oh, so you're going to ditch your only brother in his time of need?" asked Fabian with a look of false-hurt.

"You're feeling better, yeah?"

Fabian nodded.

"Then go back to sleep," said Gideon, rolling his eyes. "Molly will be back soon anyway."

"Fine," said Fabian, scowling slightly. Suddenly, his face softened. "You'll let her know, right?" he asked quietly.

"Of course," Gideon promised his brother.

I approached Fabian's bedside. "Fabian—" I began.

"Don't worry, Hermione. I won't tell anyone," he said gravely, blanket still tucked beneath his chin.

"I was going to say that it was really nice to meet you," I said, biting back a smile. "But I appreciate it. Honestly, if you're anything like Molly, I have no reason to not trust you."

* * *

Gideon and I walked through the double doors and into the reception area of St. Mungo's.

"Are we going to Floo to Hogwarts?" I asked him.

"No, the Floo Network only works for outgoing travel within the castle without special permission from the Department of Magical Transportation. Well, except for the Headmaster's fireplace. We're going to Apparate to the village. You have your license, right?"

"Well, I did—" I lowered my voice. "I don't have one _here,"_ I said pointedly.

"Noted," he said, understanding. "I'll side-along you. You know, I don't have any lessons after three this afternoon. Want me to accompany you to the Ministry for your license?"

"I appreciate it, but—"

"Gideon!" a frantic voice called from the opposite side of the room. I fell silent as I spotted a strikingly pretty witch with short blonde hair rushing toward us. She looked exhausted—dark circles beneath her red-rimmed eyes, curls frizzed and tousled, still in her rumpled Ministry robes.

"Elise," he said as he gave her a small hug.

"They won't let me see him," she said, voice anguished.

"He's fine, Ellie," he told her kindly. "Just a little beat up."

Gideon used a nickname to address her, so I supposed they must be friends—maybe from school? They looked to be near the same age.

"How did you know he's here? I was planning to send an owl as soon as I got back to Hogwarts."

"Sharon," she answered. "Office gossip. She sent me an owl a few hours ago. Apparently she's seeing Dawlish."

Ah, John Dawlish. I wonder if he's a better Auror now than he will be in twenty years?

"Bloody hell, Dawlish knows? It'll be all over the Ministry before the start of business…" Gideon muttered. His forehead wrinkled worriedly.

"So he's really okay?" she asked, relieved.

"Nothing he can't handle," he reassured. "I think it's almost visiting hours, so you'll be able to see him soon. Sorry I can't do more." He gave her another hug and bestowed a kiss to the top of her head. "We've got to get back to Hogwarts. See you soon, Ellie."

* * *

"You up for Rosmerta's full English?" Gideon asked as we both righted ourselves after Apparating to Hogsmeade. "We still have about thirty minutes before the Great Hall begins serving."

"Sounds great," I replied.

I wasn't quite ready to return to the castle and run the risk of seeing Sirius.

We made our way down the High Street and into the Three Broomsticks. The pub was deserted except for an old warlock at the bar drinking a cup of tea over the most recent copy of _Transfiguration Today._

"Morning, Rosy," Gideon said as we entered, a tinkling bell announcing our arrival.

Rosmerta glanced up from her seat behind the counter where she appeared to be balancing the books. "Gideon, I assume? What brings you in so early? I know my fry-up is top-notch, but certainly not better than Hogwarts."

"Hermione and I visited my sister yesterday evening," he replied, delivering the half-truth with ease. "You remember Molly, right?"

"'Course I remember Molly. That booth in the corner was practically reserved for her and Arthur for years," Rosmerta said, eyeing me with curiosity. "Good to see you again, Hermione. Grab a table and I'll be over in a tick."

"Merlin, I'm exhausted," I yawned as I slid into a booth. "I don't know how you're going to function in lessons today."

"I'll manage," said Gideon, unconcerned.

Rosmerta brought us both coffees and took our order.

"So… Elise?" I asked Gideon as Rosmerta retreated to the kitchen.

"Er—" he said shiftily.

"Oh come on, Gideon," I said between sips of coffee. Rosmerta's Italian dark roast was superb, as always. "I shared my secret. Can't you trust me with a few of yours?"

"Well when you put it that way," he acquiesced with a smile. "It's Fabian's secret really, but I doubt he'll mind. Elise McKinnon. She and Fabian are sort of dating. They're keeping it pretty hushed for now. His decision, mostly—you know, the dangers of being an Auror and all."

"Wait, McKinnon?" I asked, surprised. "Is she related to Marlene?"

"Older sister," Gideon said, nodding.

"But aren't the McKinnons—" I glanced around. The old warlock was still the only other patron in the pub, but I lowered my voice anyway. "Members of the Order?"

"Mr. and Mrs. McKinnon are," replied Gideon. "They're trying to keep their children out of the thick of it for now. I don't know how much longer they'll manage to, though. Elise works in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and we really need more contacts within the Ministry."

* * *

I returned to the Gryffindor common room around seven-thirty, hoping everyone would already be in the Great Hall for breakfast.

No such luck.

Sirius was sprawled on the sofa, still in his clothes from yesterday, arm thrown over his eyes to block the bands of sunlight streaming through the windows. He was jolted awake by the creaking sound of the Fat Lady's portrait closing behind me. He sat up quickly, rubbing the remains of sleep from his eyes.

"Hermione," he breathed, eyes raking over me. He stood and strode across the room to stand in front of me. Apparently someone had taken advantage of his open slumber to draw an offensive doodle on his forehead. "What happened? Where have you been? I'm sorry if I overstepped, but—"

I was far too exhausted for this conversation.

"Not now, Sirius," I said wearily. "I'm sorry, but I really don't have the energy for this." I turned to leave, but I realized that it would be unkind of me not share the prank with him. "You might want to shower before breakfast, by the way. There's a penis on your forehead."

Ignoring the guilty feeling my gut, I left him standing there—scowling and scrubbing his face vigorously with his hand—as I headed in the direction of my dormitory for a nice, long nap.

* * *

**The Great Hall, Hogwarts**

* * *

**AUROR INJURED, MINISTRY MUM**

Fabian Prewett, Junior Auror in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was admitted to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries late last night. The Ministry for Magic has declined comment, however, our very own _Daily Prophet_ columnist, Betty Braithwaite, spotted Auror Prewett arrive at the central London hospital, accompanied by famed Senior Auror Alastor Moody.

"Looked a right mess, he did," says Ms. Braithwaite. "The poor lad was out cold and slashed to bits like he came off the wrong end of a Nudu mauling."

Auror Prewett, 21, is a recent graduate of the _Eldritch Diggory_ _Academy for Aurors_ and joined Britain's elite Auror unit a mere three months ago. Ministry spokeswizards have yet to confirm rumors regarding how Prewett sustained his possibly critical wounds, the least of which involve the failed apprehension of dark wizards or witches unknown.

One certainty, however, is that Auror Prewett has a strong support system to assist in his hopeful recovery. According to Ms. Braithwaite, Prewett was met at St. Mungo's Hospital by his sister, Molly Weasley, his brother and fellow Auror, Gideon Prewett, as well as none other than the Headmaster of Hogwarts himself, Albus Dumbledore, and his niece, Hermione Granger-Dumbledore.

"Oh yes, Albus's niece was in quite a state when Prewett showed up," confides Ms. Braithwaite. "Positively sobbing over his unconscious body. They must be an item."

* * *

Lily's eyes widened and she choked on her morning coffee as she reached the end of the front-page _Daily Prophet_ article.

"No wonder Hermione wasn't in the dormitory last night!" she said loudly. The conversations around her ceased immediately and everyone looked up from their breakfasts. "Her boyfriend is in St. Mungo's."

"Wait, I thought she was out with—" Mary began, but the rest of her sentence was drowned out.

"WHAT?" yelped Sirius, knocking over Remus's cup of tea as he reached across the table and snatched the newspaper from Lily's grasp.

"Sirius," growled an annoyed Remus as the scalding liquid dripped into his lap. Mary, who was sitting next to Remus, offered him her napkin.

Sirius, however, was too engrossed in the article to respond, his eyes moving down the page like lightening. He froze when he reached the final line, his face stony as he stared down at the newsprint. His three best mates watched him in silent apprehension.

"Padfoot—" James said quietly.

Sirius stood abruptly, clutching the crumpled newspaper tightly in his fist, and left the Great Hall without another word.

The group of Gryffindor seventh years sat in stunned silence for a moment, exchanging looks ranging from confusion to concern.

"Did anyone know that Hermione even had a boyfriend?" asked Mary finally.

Lily and Alice both shook their heads. Marlene simply stared down into her half-drunk cup of tea, brows furrowed.

"Shit," James muttered under his breath.

"Who's got the—" began Peter, but he was cut off by a swift kick to his shins from James.

"I've got it," said James, standing and giving Remus and Peter a significant look. "I'll catch up with you lot later."

"Don't forget about our Heads meeting at seven tonight!" Lily shouted to his retreating form. She watched as James exited the Great Hall, her eyes unblinking until he was out of sight.

"I'm going to see if Dorcas has a copy of the _Prophet_ I can borrow," said Remus, standing as well. "I need to read that article." He shouldered his school bag and headed in the direction of the Ravenclaw table in search of his friend and fellow Prefect, Dorcas Meadowes.

"Mar," said Lily quietly, nudging her best friend.

Marlene shook her head, determinedly avoiding eye contact with everyone remaining. "Leave it, Lily."

* * *

**Hermione:**

* * *

I slept peacefully—and thankfully, dreamlessly—until almost lunchtime. I tried to sleep a bit longer, but was disappointingly unsuccessful. Sighing grumpily, I rolled out of bed for a much needed shower.

"Hermione?" Lily called as I finished rinsing the last bit of conditioner from my hair and turned off the water.

"Lily?" I asked, poking my head out of the curtain and clutching my towel.

"I was just making sure you're back. Find me when you're done?"

I nodded and retreated into my cubicle to dress. That was strange, I thought to myself. She didn't even ask why I wasn't in class this morning.

"What's up, Lily?" I asked as I entered the dormitory, toweling my hair dry. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, chewing on the edge of her thumbnail.

"How are you?" she asked, eyes brimming with concern.

I perched on the edge of my four-poster facing her. "Er, fine?"

She raised her eyebrows, apparently thrown by my reaction. "Well, it's just that we saw _The Daily Prophet_ this morning. We were worried about you."

"Worried about me?" I repeated, bewildered. "What in the _Prophet_ would make you—"

But then it hit me.

"Do you have a copy I can borrow?" I asked, much more calmly than I felt.

She reached into her school bag and pulled out a crumpled copy of today's newspaper. "The article is at bottom of the front page. I'm so sorry, Hermione."

I didn't answer her.

_' **Auror Injured, Ministry Mum'**_

"Oh, shit..." I muttered under my breath.

"I hope he's okay?" she asked anxiously as I read.

_'Positively sobbing over his unconscious body. They must be an item.'_

I tossed the offending paper to the ground the moment I finished reading. Merlin, the _Prophet_ managed to turn a serious article about a wounded Auror into a commentary on his fucking love life?

"I'm not dating Fabian," I told her quietly. "I actually just met him last night."

She looked at me in surprise. "You're not?"

"Lily, you should know better than to believe any gossip printed in this rag. I was certainly not crying over Fabian. If anything, I was comforting his sobbing sister. Molly and I are friends. That's how I ended up there."

"Oh," Lily said in a small voice. She was quiet for a moment, thinking. "You should probably let Sirius know."

"What?"

"Sirius seemed pretty upset when he saw the _Prophet_ this morning. Is there—" She bit her lip worriedly. "Is there something going on between the two of you?"

I sighed as I began to plait my damp tresses. "I honestly don't know," I replied slowly. "He er—" I paused and looked down at the floor. "He might've kissed me yesterday afternoon."

_"Might've_ kissed you?" she repeated. "I don't think a kiss is really something a girl can miss."

"Fine, he kissed me. But it doesn't matter now. I'm sure it wasn't a big deal to him anyway, and even if it was—" I sighed again. "I completely spoiled it."

"How on earth could you possibly spoil a kiss?"

"I kind of freaked out on him halfway through, and um—Disapparated. That's why I was with Molly. I just needed to escape for a bit. God, he must think I'm absolutely cracked now."

"I really don't think that's the case," said Lily. "Remus said he didn't come back to their dormitory last night. I think he was waiting for you."

"Fucking hell," I muttered as I tied off the end of my plait. "Why am I always rubbish at this sort of thing?" I chafed my hands up and down my arms to stave off the unnatural chill that had swept over me. "Wait, why aren't you more angry?"

"Angry?" she repeated, taken aback. "Why would I be angry?"

"Didn't Sirius and Marlene just break up? You're her best friend, right?"

"Oh, right. That. Obviously I'm not exactly thrilled with the way things worked out for them, but honestly, they weren't meant for each other anyway." She looked at me thoughtfully. "So if I shouldn't trust the _Prophet_ , then what actually happened last night?"

"I think it's best if I don't talk about it. Can I borrow this?" I asked as I picked up the newspaper. She nodded. "Thanks."

I walked to the vanity and examined my reflection. Even after my morning nap, my face showed the evidence of my near-sleepless night. Ignoring the dark circles, I used my wand to apply a bit of rouge to my pale cheeks and a swipe of mascara to my tired eyes.

"So," Lily said, looking a little sheepish. "How _was_ the kiss, at least? Before you Disapparated, I mean."

I sighed and looked at her through her reflection in the mirror. "Bloody wonderful," I admitted.

She grinned. "I thought it would be. You know, Sirius has matured a lot over the past year. He—"

I turned back to her, folding her copy of the _Prophet_ up neatly and tucking it under my arm. "I'm sorry, but I've got to go," I said, cutting her off. I retrieved my school bag and slung it across my body. "I need to see Gideon before his next class."

"Gideon?" she questioned as I left the dormitory.

* * *

I knocked on the door of Gideon's office, hoping he had already returned from lunch. I heard the rustling of parchment and the sound of footsteps against stone, and a moment later, he opened the door.

"Hermione? What are you doing here?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "I can't go with you to the Ministry yet. I have classes until three."

"Have you seen this?" I asked, brandishing the abused copy of today's paper at him.

He sighed, looking drained.

"Sadly, yes," he said, opening the door wider and waving me inside. Once the door had closed behind him, he gestured for me to sit in one of the leather armchairs in front of his desk. He continued as he sank into the chair next to me. "But honestly, it could be worse."

I cast the _Muffliato_ charm on his office door before rounding on him.

"Worse?" I repeated, scoffing. "I wanted to keep a low profile, but now the whole bloody wizarding community knows about me! And they think I'm dating your brother!"

"Hermione, if you wanted to keep a low profile, using Dumbledore as your cover was a poor way to go about it."

I gaped at him.

"You're—you're right," I murmured. "I know he probably didn't have many options, but Dumbledore must've known that this story would draw attention…"

"But it also makes you seem more trustworthy to the right people. Think about it. If you weren't Albus Dumbledore's niece, do you really think Molly would have invited you in last night? It helps gloss over your strange behavior."

I frowned slightly. He had a point.

"Anyway," he continued. "Yes, the article could have been worse. The Prophet didn't know where Fabian was when he was injured nor any details of his duel with Rabastan. If a rumor of a bogus relationship is our only problem, I think we're doing just fine."

I deflated even more. "You're right, I suppose. I still don't like seeing my personal business in newsprint, fabricated or not."

"I don't blame you," he said with a snort. "But there's nothing we can do about it now." He checked his watch. It was similar to Fabian's, but a heavy silver rather than gold. "I've got a class in five minutes. You know where to find the kitchens, yeah?" I nodded. "Why don't you go down and have a spot of lunch? Ask for Mipsy. She'll take care of you."

"Well I was planning on going to Herbology…"

He shook his head. "There's no way you'll make it to the greenhouses before the bell." He studied my face carefully for a moment, then added. "And no offense, you still look completely exhausted. Just enjoy your day off. Meet me in the Entrance Hall at quarter past three and we'll go to the Ministry."

"Gideon, there's really no need—"

"Yes, there is," he said seriously. "You absolutely need your Apparition license." I opened my mouth to protest again, but he quickly shut me down by leading me toward the door of his office. "And I'm not taking no for an answer. I'll see you then."

I rolled my eyes at him before turning to leave, and as he closed the door behind me, I could still hear him chuckling softly.

* * *

The visit to the Ministry was much more difficult than I could have imagined. The last time I'd entered the Atrium of the Ministry for Magic, I had been a wanted witch—an unregistered Muggle-born and accomplice of _Undesirable Number One._ Although the long, impressive hall looked very different than the grim place of my future, the moment I set foot on the darkly polished wooden floor, my entire body began to tremble.

"Have you been to the Ministry before?" asked Gideon conversationally, glancing over at me as we made our way closer to the Fountain of Magical Brethren. He stopped walking abruptly when he noticed my panicked expression. "Hermione, are you okay?"

I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath. I focused my attention on the cheerful tinkling and splashing of the water falling from the fountain. When I opened my eyes again, Gideon was staring down at me, brows furrowed with concern. For a brief moment, his hand seemed to twitch as if itching to reach out and grasp mine, but he seemed to think better of it. It was a very public place after all, and although the gesture would have been purely for comfort, rumors were already flying. No need to make the situation worse.

"I'll be fine," I whispered to him. "This place—" I shuddered. "It brings back some unpleasant memories."

_'Seal the exit! SEAL IT!'_

_Yaxley's bruising, vice-like grip on my forearm—_

I shuddered again.

"Well let's hurry then," said Gideon, compromising by placing a reassuring hand on my back and steering me toward the security desk next to the set of golden gates.

"Afternoon, Wade," said Gideon as we reached the desk. A wizard in peacock-blue robes looked up at us over the top of his Muggle novel.

"Prewett," said the wizard with a nod. He dog-eared the page and laid down his book. "How's your brother?"

"Oh, Fabian'll be just fine," Gideon replied airily. "He's already on the mend."

Wade the Security Wizard gave me a once-over.

"Visitor?" he asked.

Gideon nodded and answered for me. "Hermione Granger. Here to take her Apparition test."

Wade stood and fetched a long golden Probity Probe from behind the desk. He gestured for me to come closer, and when I reached the side of his desk, he passed it up and down my front and back.

He stowed the instrument away before holding out his hand and grunting, "Wand, please."

I froze.

"Wand?" I squeaked.

_What would happen if this man inspected my wand?_

Would he somehow know that this wand hadn't originally been mine? That I had taken it by force? That it had come from the future?

Gideon glanced sideways and gave me a short, encouraging nod.

"Yes, your wand," replied Wade, somewhat annoyed. "Just need to weigh it."

I produced my wand from my pocket and passed it to him with quivering hands. He placed it on a strange, scale-like brass instrument. The scale began to vibrate before emitting a strip of parchment from an opening at its base.

He read aloud from the parchment, "Walnut, twelve and three-quarter inches, dragon heartstring core, been in use…" He looked up at me in surprise. "Less than one week?"

I released the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. 

"Er—yeah. Brand new, actually," I fibbed with a relieved smile. 

"Right-o," said Wade as he handed me back my wand. I pocketed it. "Good luck on your test."

* * *

I passed the Apparition test with ease, just as I had my first time. After all, before my unexpected blast to the past, I had been Apparating across Britain on a daily basis for almost a year. I was grateful to Gideon for accompanying me. I honestly couldn't have managed it without him.

"So," began Gideon as we strolled along the dark, deserted lane leading to the castle. Night had already fallen and the only light illuminating our path came from the last quarter moon shining above us. "What exactly did you mean earlier by 'unpleasant memories'?"

From the tone of his voice, I could tell he'd been itching to ask that question for hours. I paused, considering how best to explain.

"Well, like I said last night, the war had reached its peak during the year before I arrived here," I said quietly. He began to walk closer in order to hear. "Voldemort had taken over the Ministry—not publicly, mind you, but he made sure his puppets were in charge. The Ministry had become one of the most dangerous places in Britain for us. As a Muggle-born, I was wanted for questioning, and my best friend had a ten-thousand Galleon price on his head. As his suspected accomplice, I'd become one of the most wanted witches in Britain. I can't really give specifics, but there was an object inside the Ministry that we needed. Our only choice was to break in."

"You _broke into_ the Ministry for Magic?" he repeated, flabbergasted. "How in the name of Merlin did you manage that?"

"A combination of trick-sweets and Polyjuice Potion," I replied. "We found what we needed, but the Polyjuice wore off before we could escape. We almost didn't make it out. If they had caught us, all three of us would've been chucked into Azkaban—or, more likely, killed."

"Bloody hell, Hermione," he muttered, shaking his head. We walked in silence for a moment before he asked, "And why didn't you want to give up your wand?"

"Ah, so you noticed that," I said with a small grimace. "That's also a complicated story. But to keep it simple, this isn't the wand I bought from Ollivander at eleven. I took this wand from a witch during the final battle."

"Is it a wand that someone might recognize?" he asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"No, not really. Well, Sirius recognized it, but I trust him completely."

He stopped walking abruptly, even though we were only feet from the castle steps.

"Sirius recognized it?" he repeated, giving me a hard stare.

"Er—yeah. It belonged to a member of his family."

"Your wand belonged to a Black?" he said as we began walking again. "Merlin, Hermione, you're just a magnet for trouble, aren't you?"

I shrugged.

_Yep, basically._

"I doubt I need to warn you, but the Blacks are a dangerous lot," he said as we climbed the steps leading to the castle. "You should consider getting a new wand."

"I've thought about it," I admitted. He opened one of the oak front doors of the castle and placed a hand lightly on the small of my back as we entered. "But honestly, this one just _feels_ right."

Although still appearing uncertain, he replied, "Well then let's just hope no one else notices."

I decided not to tell him that Regulus might have recognized it as well. I wouldn't put it past Gideon to drag me to Diagon Alley himself if he knew.

"We should get something to eat before all the good stuff is gone," he said, closing the door behind us.

"Good idea," I replied. It felt like ages since Mipsy's cheese toastie and tomato soup.

As we reached the doors of the Great Hall, Gideon and I nearly collided with someone leaving dinner. As Gideon helped me catch my balance, I gasped in recognition.

"Sirius!" I said brightly. "I've been meaning to talk to you all day."

Sirius was looking from me to Gideon in slight confusion. As his eyes landed on Gideon's hand, which was still placed on my lower back, his face transformed into a hostile glare. I quickly shrugged away from Gideon's touch.

"I see you're going for the set then," he said nastily. "And a professor to boot. Merlin, when I'm wrong about a witch, I'm really, really wrong."

"What are you—" I began, but Sirius interrupted.

"I'll see you around, Granger," he said flatly before turning around and walking swiftly up the marble staircase.

I stared open-mouthed until he vanished from sight. I turned back to face a completely bewildered Gideon, but he wasn't the only one there. James, Remus, and Lily were standing in the doorway of the Great Hall—James glaring mutinously, Remus frowning in confusion, and Lily grimacing sympathetically.

My face flushed scarlet.

"Oh, bugger me," I groaned as I covered my eyes in embarrassment.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Finally updated! I'm so sorry for the long delay, but I hope it was worth the wait. As always, please leave a review and let me know what you think! Anything specific you'd like to see in the future? Just let me know!
> 
> [Update, 03/07/17]: I am so sorry that it's taking me ages to get the next chapter out! There's many reasons why, which I won't bore you with. However, I have gone back through and revised/edited a few chapters to help myself get a feel for the direction of the story again. As of now, I've made a few adjustments to chapters ten through sixteen. Nothing huge, just a few little things to get me back into the groove of writing. There's also a possibility that other chapters will be tweaked a bit too. Like I said, no drastic changes, just small improvements and additions. Also, I promise that this story will never be abandoned! It just may take longer between updates :)


	17. Clever Girl

* * *

**Chapter 17: Clever Girl**

* * *

Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."  
_—Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,_  J.K. Rowling

* * *

The melodrama of Sirius's misinterpretation  _might_ have been almost comical… if it hadn't left me beet red and utterly mortified. Naturally, as my abysmal luck would have it, there wasn't time to rectify the situation before three of the witnesses to my shame had to rush off—James and Lily to their Monday night Heads meeting and Remus to tutor a group of third years struggling in Charms. James didn't spare a word before leaving and Remus offered little more than an apologetic shrug

"Sorry," Lily mouthed over her shoulder before she followed the two wizards up the marble staircase.

"Don't worry about it," said Gideon, clasping my shoulder briefly. "You'll be able to straighten it out later. I'll see you in class tomorrow."

He flashed me an encouraging smile before heading into the Great Hall.

I was left standing open-mouthed in the Entrance Hall, quite alone except for a few students milling about after leaving dinner. A dry laugh escaped my throat before I could suppress it.

_Where exactly had I gone wrong this time?_

* * *

Both physically and mentally exhausted from this long, arduous start of the week, I chose to skive off dinner and head straight to bed. My appetite had all but vanished, and honestly, I didn't see any point in drawing out this bollocks of a Monday. I trudged sullenly up the spiral staircase to the girls dormitory, finding it mercifully empty when I arrived.

"Thank Merlin," I sighed into the deserted room. I changed into my pajamas and performed my nightly routine hastily. Though it was still quite early, I hoped to be long asleep before anyone else returned. Recalling my most recent nightmare, I quickly drained a vial of Dreamless Sleep draught before closing the hangings around my bed.

_I'll find Sirius tomorrow and clear the air,_ I thought as I pulled back the blankets and flopped unceremoniously into my four-poster.  _If Lily doesn't get a chance to first._

* * *

"James was positively insufferable last night," Lily complained as we walked down to breakfast together the next morning.

It didn't escape my notice that she'd called him  _James_  rather than Potter. I mentally cheered.

_One step closer to the birth of my best friend._

I quickly suppressed all thoughts of Harry and the smile that came along with them as I tried to focus on Lily's continued griping.

"—surly prat the entire meeting," she went on grumpily. "I tried to explain that it was all just a big misunderstanding, but he wasn't having it. I swear, he can be such a stubborn git when it comes to Black."

Lily and I had departed the dormitory together without Mary and Alice, who had still been dressing for the day. Both girls had been understanding, yet likely still unconvinced when I revealed that Fabian was not, in fact, my boyfriend. Marlene, however, was a different story. The moment I pulled back my hangings, she slipped out of the room without so much as a 'Good morning'. I didn't quite know what to make of her atypical silence, but I doubted it boded well for me.

I refused to let it affect me too much, though. I'd awoken this morning with a fresh perspective, as if my sleeping brain had been mulling over it throughout the night. Honestly, I was growing annoyed. This whole situation seemed rather petty. What did frivolous squabbles such as this matter when war lay on the horizon?

And yet—why did the possibility of Sirius hating me leave me feeling light-headed and mildly queasy?

"I just can't  _believe_  Sirius," I groused, worriedly smoothing my hair as I spoke. It was even more unruly than usual this morning. "I can't believe he'd think that of me."

"It was an awful thing for him to say," agreed Lily, "but then again, he's always been a hot-headed prat."

"I guess I can't blame him," I said with a resigned sigh. "I've only been here a week. He doesn't really know me."

"True, but that still doesn't give him a pass to basically call you a two-timing slag," Lily countered. She fell silent for a moment before humming thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen him this worked up about a girl. He's usually the one doing the ditching."

"I didn't ditch him," I retorted hotly.

"Cool your heels," said Lily with a small chuckle. "I know it's just a huge mix-up." She then frowned slightly and added, "It did look a bit incriminating, though. Why  _were_  you out with Professor Prewett last night?"

I reached into the front pocket of my school bag and retrieved the magically-laminated square of parchment issued by the Department of Magical Transportation. The Ministry for Magic endorsement shone gold next to my signature— _Hermione Jean Ariana Granger-Dumbledore._  I held it out for her to see.

"He took me to the Ministry for my Apparition license. I didn't have an opportunity to take the test here before the start of term, and he didn't approve of me Apparating illegally. He was just doing his duty as an Auror."

"Well that's a perfectly reasonable explanation," said Lily, looking surprisingly relieved as I tucked my new license back into my bag.

_What had she thought I'd been doing with our professor?_

"Yeah, well I guess we'll see if Sirius thinks the same," I replied as we entered the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling above us was a dull shade of rain-cloud gray, mirroring my gloomy mood.

As Lily and I slid onto the bench at the Gryffindor table a few spaces away from Remus and Peter, James shot me a contemptible scowl, Remus smiled grimly, and Peter looked distinctly uncomfortable. Sirius, however, seemed completely unfazed by my arrival. He didn't spare a single glance in my direction, and when James turned back to him, Sirius continued discussing their most recent prank loudly and enthusiastically.

"Caterpillars for eyebrows. Bloody brilliant!"

It was as if I didn't exist.

_It was going to be a very long day._

* * *

Remus, at least, granted the courtesy of allowing me to explain as he joined Lily and me on our way to Arithmancy after our free period.

"The  _Prophet_  is shite," said Remus immediately after I finished. "Dorcas and I were discussing it yesterday. It used to be a reputable source of news, but lately it's become sensational journalism at its worst."

"I thought everyone knew that," I said, my spirits rising, "but then why wouldn't Sirius give me a chance to explain?"

"Sirius has this maddening habit of always jumping to the worst conclusions." He frowned sympathetically. "I'll try to talk to him, but don't get your hopes up. Trying to reason with Sirius Black can be like talking to a brick wall."

"Lovely," I sighed as we entered Professor Vector's classroom.

_Merlin, give me strength._

* * *

I might as well have been Disillusioned for all of the notice Sirius paid me for the remainder of the day. The only time I saw him so much as look in my direction was after the bell rang to signal the end of Defense Against the Dark Arts. As I began to collect my things, Gideon caught my eye and jerked his head toward the front of the room. I raised my eyebrows in question, but it struck me almost immediately that he wanted me to stick around to discuss our extra practice sessions. I gave Gideon a short nod before glancing around the room to see how many students remained.

Of course Sirius was last to leave; he had paused near the doorway of classroom, his jaw clenched as he fixed his gaze on me. The palms of my hands tingled uncomfortably as I locked eyes with him, and the savage gleam I briefly saw there was comparable to a Basilisk. Seconds later, however, his face slid into an expressionless mask and he stalked out the room.

"So he's still in a strop?" Gideon asked with raised eyebrows once we were alone.

I rolled my eyes and gave him a small shrug. "The stupid prat won't let me explain, and I refuse to beg. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Sounds like classic Sirius Black," Gideon replied as he used his wand to straighten the scrolls of parchment he'd collected at the end of the lesson. "He was one of the second-string beaters during my last two years on the Gryffindor house team. On and off the Quidditch pitch, he had only two settings: hilarious or infuriated." He paused briefly, the corners of his mouth quirked upward in a teasing manner. "Seems like he may fancy you a bit."

My cheeks flushed with embarrassed heat. "I don't think so," I replied, my mind involuntarily traveling back to the deserted Hogsmeade alleyway, to the taste of spearmint—friends though we may be, there was absolutely no way I was going to tell Gideon about _that._

I'd grown so accustomed to lying lately that I wasn't exactly sure who I was intending to deceive: everyone else or myself.

"And if he does, I'm sure I'm just one of many," I finished, averting my gaze. "I think he's just sulking because I'm not falling over myself to snog him. When it comes to women, he isn't exactly accustomed to being rebuffed."

"Did you know him well?" asked Gideon. "You know—" He lowered his voice and shot a glance at the classroom door, ensuring it was closed. "In your future?"

I frowned, silent for a moment as I considered my answer carefully.

"Very few people knew Sirius Black well," I responded vaguely.

— _because he was imprisoned for twelve years._

That specific part of my former life wasn't a pleasant tale, and certainly not one that could be shared briefly before lunch. I smiled appreciatively when Gideon didn't press the matter further.

"Well he'll come to his senses eventually. Don't let it get to you too much."

"Oh trust me, I won't. I've lived through a war, Gid. Adolescent feuds lose their appeal after—" My voice died away and my head began to spin uncomfortably.

_After dueling the most dangerous of Voldemort's followers. After destroying a Horcrux. After successfully performing the Killing Curse—_

' _Don't forget the best part, my dear Hermione,'_ the intrusive Tom Riddle-esque voice reminded me softly.

— _after facing the Dark Lord himself._

I swallowed heavily. "Well, after you've done the sort of things I have."

Gideon paused to stare at me for a moment, his lips pressed together in a hard line. From the troubled look he gave me, I could tell that he understood. The more I considered it, Gideon seemed to be exceptionally adept at interpreting what I left unsaid.

He shook his head as if to clear it and gave me a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"'Atta girl," he said, lightening the moment before changing the subject. "So I was thinking we'd meet on Thursday evening, say around nine o'clock? I'd prefer you not be out after hours, but I also don't want your housemates to question you too much either."

"Sounds great," I agreed. "Meet here?"

"Yeah, but I'm going to be on the lookout for somewhere better to practice. I've been skimming through training manuals from my first year at the Academy to get a loose idea of what to cover. I think we'll be more productive somewhere with ample space to move around."

I grinned at him.

"I think I might know just the place."

* * *

I reckoned that my most reasonable course of action would be to keep to myself for the next few days—not necessarily out of embarrassment, but rather because I didn't have it in me to continue justifying something that was entirely innocent. Truthfully, I had to acknowledge that Sirius might actually be doing me a favor. I had a much higher purpose here after all, and my mission would certainly be easier to accomplish if I avoided all likely distractions. With that in mind, I decided to take a leaf out of Harry's book—ignore, ignore, ignore.

This ended up being a surprisingly difficult task. Whenever I'd wanted to isolate myself during my first six years at Hogwarts, all I'd had to do was set up camp in the library. However, a few of my new friends appeared to be a bit more persistent than Harry or Ron.

Early Wednesday morning, I snuck out of the dormitory before anyone else had awoken. Not only was I keen to dodge any awkward confrontations, but I'd also been neglecting my research. I'd been in this decade _—fuck, I doubt I'll ever get used to that—_ for a week already, yet I hadn't opened a single book relating to time travel. I mentally scolded myself over and over as I shuffled tiredly down the corridor toward the library. It was about an hour until breakfast began when I pushed opened the library doors. This was when I liked the library best—the moment Madam Pince arrived, completely deserted and quiet.

Unsurprisingly, the Hogwarts Library had a stupidly small section relating to temporal magic. I sighed, half-heartedly cursing the Department of Mysteries and the whole bloody Ministry under my breath as I snatched up a few thin volumes that seemed mildly promising and sank into a stiff armchair near one of the windows facing the Great Lake. I opened the book at the top of the pile and began to read. I grew frustrated with the rudimentary data after only a few pages, but I continued reading just in case something useful presented itself—but of course, I had been foolishly optimistic. I tossed it onto the table with a groan before picking up the next book. The sun was rising beautifully over the lake now, flooding the room with brilliant shades of red and orange and briefly distracting me from the copy of  _The Essentials of Time_  in my lap. My eyelids fluttered closed as I soaked up the comforting warmth of dawn, and it wasn't long before I began to doze.

"Hermione?"

A female voice broke into my sleepy serenity.

"What's up, Gin?" I replied, my eyes squeezed tightly shut as I yawned widely.

"Er, it's Lily. Remus said you'd be in the library."

_Lily?_

My eyes snapped open and my hand moved instinctively to grasp the handle of my wand.

"I brought you breakfast?" she said a little apprehensively, holding out a stack of toast.

"Oh," I said rather stupidly as I accepted her offering.

_Will I ever get used to my new reality?_

"I'd eat it quickly before Madam Pince notices," she whispered as she sat in the seat next to me. "I think crumbs are on the same level as Unforgivables in her book."

"Right," I said before eating half a slice of buttered toast in one bite. I'd skipped dinner again last night, which I now realized was probably not the smartest idea. "Thanks, Lily."

"No problem. I reckoned you might be avoiding the Great Hall, and toast is better than nothing at all."

I hastily swallowed the large chunk I'd just shoved into my mouth, nearly choking. "Not necessarily avoiding it," I said through a cough. She raised her eyebrows skeptically. "Well fine, maybe. But only because I'm not in the mood to deal with James Potter's evil eye this early in the morning."

James really did have one hell of a glare, something Harry hadn't inherited whatsoever. Harry had certainly been the moody-broody type, but his glowers had usually been reserved for the world in general. Understandable, considering his circumstances.

Lily laughed. "Don't blame you. His dirty looks could compete with my sister's, which is a pretty impressive feat."

_Ah, dear Aunt Petunia._  I couldn't suppress a frown as I recalled the neglect and abuse she and her awful husband had inflicted upon my best friend. Harry had preferred not to discuss his homelife before Hogwarts if he could help it, but I'd read between the lines enough to know that it was by no means pleasant. I'll never forget the horror I felt when he let the phrase  _'locked in that bloody cupboard again'_  slip one evening during a casual conversation in front of the common room fire.

I quickly attempted to rearrange my face into something resembling mild curiosity before saying, "You have siblings?"

It was now Lily's turn to frown. "Just one sister. Petunia. She's only two years older than me." She had a far away look in her eyes as if recalling bittersweet memories. "We were once quite close actually, but she's a Muggle. Not that it mattered to me, of course," she said, likely noticing me freeze halfway through another bite of toast. "Things were just never the same between us after Sev told me that I'm a witch."

My eyebrows shot up so quickly, I was surprised they didn't fly right off my forehead.  _"Sev_  was the one that told you about magic?" I asked, utterly astonished at this new bit of information. "As in  _Severus Snape?"_

She shifted awkwardly in her seat and looked as if she regretted her carelessness. "I told you that we were once friends," she replied, shrugging. "We both grew up in Cokeworth. He saw me using magic in the park when we were kids, just silly little things I knew would drive Tuney mad. He popped out of nowhere and flat out said  _'You're a witch.'"_  She smiled faintly. "At first I thought he was just doing a poor job of insulting me, but it didn't take long to realize he was right. We became fast friends—" Her sentence died away and she averted her eyes to the window, a frown returning to her face as she gazed out at the grounds.

I knew I was likely pressing my luck, but my mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. "What changed?" I asked her quietly.

She actually snorted as she turned back to me. "He's a Slytherin and I'm a Muggle-born Gryffindor," she said flatly. "Nothing had to  _change._  One day he made it painfully clear that he believed the same bigoted rubbish as his housemates."

The scars on my forearm seemed to prickle uncomfortably. "Wait, he didn't call you—"

"Yup," she interrupted, "in our fifth year. In front of everyone." She stood up suddenly and smoothed her robes primly. "Come on, we'll be late for Charms if we don't hurry."

I followed her wordlessly out of the library, dumping my unread stack of books onto the reshelve pile as we passed. My brain seemed to be in overdrive as I attempted to fit this news into the scattered memories of my former life. As I hiked my heavy school bag higher onto my shoulder, the memory hit me suddenly—a distraught Harry, his glasses slightly askew and eyes puffy, his fingers intertwined with Ginny's as he spoke to a solemn audience in the hospital wing after Dumbledore's death.

' _He didn't think my mother was worth a damn either because she was Muggle-born. Mudblood, he called her…'_

* * *

On Wednesday evening, Peter caught me in the kitchens, whether intentionally or by chance, I couldn't be sure. I'd decided to grab a late meal from Mipsy rather than face the Great Hall again. Mipsy was thrilled to see me, and just as I was finishing up my shepherd's pie, Peter plopped down onto the bench across from me, a bowl of sticky toffee pudding clutched in his hands.

"Didn't see you at dinner," he said through his first mouthful of pudding, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

I shrugged silently, unsure of how to react. Not only was I uncertain of how Peter felt about me at the moment, but—as much as I hated to admit it—I still felt uncomfortable in Peter's presence. Although his appearance and behavior were both unnervingly different than the twitchy bit of vermin I had met, it was still difficult to see his warm smile and not remember the revolting sensation of his clammy hands clawing at my ankles, clutching at the hems of my robes as he pleaded for his life.

' _Sweet girl, clever girl… You won't let them… Help me…'_

My mouth went dry. I took a long swig from my glass of water.

"Don't worry, Remus told me the whole story," he said with a smile that was likely meant to be reassuring, but mostly just came off as timid. "Sirius and James will cool off eventually. You haven't been here long, but this is pretty typical behavior for them both."

I gave him a small smile as I swung my legs over the wooden bench. "Thanks Peter, but I'm not very worried. I have far more important things on my plate at the moment."

I stood and swiftly left the kitchens, but not before taking note of Peter's thoroughly bewildered expression.

* * *

I once prided myself for my consistent punctuality—and by punctuality, I mean at least ten minutes early for everything. However, on Thursday morning, I lingered in the dormitory far after everyone else had departed, waving off Lily's questions and completely avoiding breakfast once again. As I pulled on my school robes, I noticed that they seemed to be a bit more roomy than when I'd purchased them a week ago. I grimaced, imaging the scolding Ron would give me if he knew how little I'd bothered with meals over the past few days.

' _You're nothing but skin and bones…'_

The memory felt hot and heavy behind my eyes as I slowly buttoned my robes.

* * *

**1 January 1998 — First Strand of Time**

* * *

It was only a few nights after our disastrous trip to Xeno Lovegood's—the first of the new year, actually. Halfway through my turn keeping watch, red hair preceded Ron through the flap of the tent, two mugs of steaming tea clutched in his hands and a thick quilt thrown over his arm—the lovely scarlet and gold patchwork quilt I had found folded neatly at the foot of my camp bed a few days before Bill and Fleur's wedding. A small scrap of parchment had been pinned to it with  _'Happy 18th Birthday, Hermione. We love you.'_ written in Mrs. Weasley's loopy script.

Wordlessly, Ron draped the still folded quilt over my knees and sank onto the pebbled ground beside me, leaning back against the canvas wall of the tent—too close,  _far too close._  He extend a freckled hand, offering me one of the mugs. I breathed in the scent of bergamot _—Earl Grey._

My favorite.

I didn't know where he'd gotten it, but we certainly hadn't had any before he'd returned.

Though the warm beverage looked heavenly compared to the frigid January air, I ignored the offer. My fingers curled into fists in my lap, resisting the urge to accept the cup of tea, resisting the urge to throw my arms around his neck and snog him until—

I didn't said a word, instead choosing to gaze out at the rocky beach before us. I had no idea where were were. Ron had chosen our last Apparition point. After a moment, he set the tea down onto the ground in front of me and cast a nonverbal warming charm over the mug. We sat in heavy silence for a while, watching small waves crash against the nearby shore.

"I know you prefer a bit of milk," he said finally. "Sorry we haven't got any."

He took a sip of his own tea, a cup I was certain contained at least two sugars, possibly three depending on his mood. I tilted my head upward and was struck by how clear the sky was that night. The stars twinkled brilliantly down at us, and I smiled faintly as I followed Orion's belt to the left and spotted the brightest star in the sky— _Sirius._

"You'll never know how sorry I am, Hermione," Ron whispered so quietly, I almost missed it.

Tears flooded my eyes instantly and I hastily snatched up my cup of tea, praying he hadn't noticed my ridiculous display of emotion. Since my outburst the night he returned, I'd been trying to be an impassive rock, feelings be damned. I took a long sip, the warm tea joining the burning sob lurking near the back of my throat.

"I—I  _missed_  you," he continued quietly. "I missed you so fucking much. Every second I was gone. I wanted to come back the moment I Disapparated. I heard you calling my name… God, that sound fucking  _haunted_  every dream I had—" he choked over his words, and I knew that if I were to look over at him, I would see unshed tears clouding his cornflower blue eyes. He cleared his throat, likely in an effort to maintain some sort of manly dignity. "But you already know that, or at least, I hope you do. I know I've said it so many times—"

His voice died away. We both took another sip of tea. His long fingers brushed softly against my arm, the many layers of woolen jumpers bunching together at his touch.

"I know I fucked up," he murmured eventually. "I fucked up so badly. I'll never forgive  _myself,_ so I damn well know I don't deserve forgiveness from you. I know how much I've ruined…" He swallowed heavily. "But—fuck, Hermione. You're my best friend. I can't—" his voice cracked. "I can't live without you."

_Yep, that'll do it._

Tears splashed silently down my cheeks as I set my cup of tea onto the ground beside me. I grasped the quilt in my lap and unfolded it slowly, laying it out to cover both of our legs. He stiffened momentarily, but once he realized what I was doing, he quickly ditched his own mug and helped me spread the quilt across us. Once it engulfed us both, I scooted over until the side of my body was pressed firmly against his. I turned my head to face him, stretching my neck so that my lips were inches from his ear.

"I've already forgiven you, you great bloody prat."

Something between a gasp and a raspy  _whoop_  came from his throat and he threw his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him and squeezing me tightly around the middle. I giggled rather uncharacteristically and buried my face into the crook of his neck.

"You really mean it?" he said hoarsely, as if not quite daring to believe what he'd just heard.

"We all fuck up sometimes, Ron," I replied, my wind-chapped lips feather-light against the milky skin of his neck as I spoke. "Your fuck ups just tend to be, well, monumentally huge." I felt him shake with subdued laughter as I snaked my arms around his waist and whispered, "But I don't think I could live without you, either."

His arms encircled me even more securely and I could practically feel him beaming. After a beat, he said, "Hang on a moment, did you just say fuck? Twice?"

I snorted, pulling away slightly to look him full in the face. "I've decided that you were right. Swearing  _is_  rather therapeutic."

"Damn right it is," he said through a grin.

"Don't tell Harry I forgave you so easily," I added, biting my lip to restrain my own grin. "I have a reputation to uphold, you know."

"Our secret, promise," he laughed quietly. "I don't think  _easy_  is quite the word for it, though."

I nuzzled into his chest, and we sat that way for a long while. I'd never felt more content in my life. I closed my eyes, knowing I should probably go inside the tent and rest, but hating the idea of leaving him. I'd just decided that I was far more comfortable here than I could ever be in my bunk when he whispered in my ear, "It's my turn to keep lookout now."

I hummed quietly in agreement, eyes still closed.

He ran a hand slowly up my arm. "Merlin, you're nothing but skin and bones… Fuck." I felt him shake his head. "Mum's going to do her nut when she sees how thin we've gotten. She was always trying to fatten Harry up anyway." He chuckled softly to himself, his fingers still caressing my upper arm. "You know, once this whole goddamn thing is over, I'm going to take you out for a nice dinner," he continued, likely thinking I was already asleep. "When You-Know-Who is dead and gone, I'll ask you out on a proper date, I promise."

I smiled against his chest, his warmth more soothing than any lullaby. Teetering on the precipice of sleep, I couldn't be completely certain—maybe it was just my tired brain's wishful thinking—but just before sleep overtook me, I could have  _sworn_  I heard him breathe into my hair, "Happy New Year, Hermione.  _I love you."_

* * *

**8 September 1977 — Current Strand of Time**

* * *

I stood alone in the dormitory, staring blankly at the stone wall, fighting off tears.

_They're nothing but memories now, Hermione. Lovely memories, memories you'll always cherish…_

I took a deep breath, then strangely… smiled.

I had loved Ron, and he had loved me. It was an incredible thing, really, to love someone so fully. Even though any chance to explore our feelings had been stolen from us, I knew he would always remain close to my heart. Terribly cliché? Yes, but still very true. My love for him would never completely disappear, but I was strong enough to move on from it—to fold it up neatly, like Mrs. Weasley's quilt, and lock it inside a box, only to be taken out and perused when necessary.

Still smiling, I wiped my watery eyes with the sleeve of my robes.

The clock on Lily's bedside table chirped loudly. I glanced over—five minutes until class began. Trust Lily to have alarms set right until the last moment, just in case. I left the dormitory at full speed, sprinting the familiar path down to the dungeons, arriving in the Potions classroom out of breath and with hair laughably windswept.

The room was full when I arrived—there seemed to be far more students taking N.E.W.T. Potions than there had been in my sixth year. Nearly all of my fellow classmates were already seated, two to a table, and were taking out their scales and potion kits. Avoiding eye contact with everyone there, my eyes quickly darted around the room, searching for the closest empty seat.

When I spotted the only vacant chair, I actually snorted out loud at my perpetually  _rotten_  luck.

At a small table on the very front row, Severus Snape was bent low over his copy of  _Advanced Potion Making_ , curtains of greasy hair concealing his face as he scribbled a few notes in the margins. I heaved a weary sigh as I crossed the room. No one would be fighting to intervene today. Snape glanced up when I set my bag down onto his table with a heavy  _thunk._  The corners of his mouth curled upward into something between a smirk and a sneer.

"Granger," he said with a curt nod. "Nice to see you're good for more than just wand-waving. Or at least—" he repeated the same once over he'd given me in Defense Against the Dark Arts. "I  _hope_ you will be, if you intend to be my partner."

"Oh, Severus," I sighed flippantly as I took the seat next to him. "Once again you underestimate me."

I gave him a sly smile— _because I had a secret._

Well, another secret.

_One of many secrets._

What Severus didn't know—what no one knew, not even Harry—was that I had read the entirety of the Half-Blood Prince's copy of  _Advanced Potion Making._

My stomach squirmed as the whispered voice of Tom Riddle inside my head hissed his approval of my deception.

—yeah, uh, no. I didn't need my unwelcome delusion of Tom-fucking-Riddle to remind me of my hypocrisy. I was very aware of it.

One of my many faults has always been my inability to stifle my burning curiosity when it comes to the unknown, and for me, that shabby, annotated textbook was the  _epitome_  of unknown for half of my sixth year. I'd desperately tried to suppress my compulsive interest in the suspicious book, but as I lay awake late one night in early December of our sixth year, I finally gave in to my obsession.

Silent as a ghost, I'd shrugged on my dressing gown and guiltily crept into the boys' dormitory. After making sure all five wizards were soundly asleep, I'd carefully slipped the Potions textbook from Harry's ragged leather school bag. I'd wound up staying awake the entire night, cross-legged on the hearth in front of the common room fire with Crookshanks snoozing in my lap as I eagerly deciphered and absorbed every inch of the Prince's scrawled notes. A few minutes before dawn, I'd returned the book to Harry's bag, the sound of my tiptoed footsteps masked by Ron and Neville's snores.

Throughout the rest of the year, my conscience would not allow me to use any of the information I'd garnered through snooping to advance myself in class. However, I was now in 1977. All previous moral qualms regarding this matter had disappeared with the obliterated Time Turner.

—and to be honest, I'd be damned if I let Snape best me in Potions.

' _Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all.'_

This phrase echoed inside my head as Snape gave me a skeptical look, and I silently prayed that my well-trained memorization skills wouldn't fail me now.

"Welcome to your final year of Potions," Professor Slughorn greeted robustly as he entered the classroom. He wasn't quite as rotund as he had been the first time I saw him in 1996, but the buttons of his robes were certainly straining across his enormous belly. "At the end of this year, you will be sitting your N.E.W.T. in this subject, an exam that might very well determine the course of your future." He paused when he reached the front of the room to stand in front of an already simmering cauldron, his eyes roaming over each student before he clapped his hands together. "Which means we have no time to waste! We shall be diving right in. I trust you remember this potion from your very first lesson last year?"

A colorless, odorless liquid was bubbling away inside the cauldron—very obviously a batch of Veritaserum.

Truth Potion.

_Fuck me._

I ground my teeth and breathed deeply through my nose as Lily identified the potion. I didn't like this at all. My truths were mine and mine alone to share, and an entire classroom of students brewing Veritaserum made my stomach clench with worry.

—but I also knew there was nothing I could do about it.

_Live your life, Hermione._

I closed my eyes as Slughorn continued, silently attempting to recall Snape's corrected instructions for Veritaserum.

_Pour only_ _half_ _of the vial of Ptolemy into the cauldron in a clockwise motion. Allow to simmer for thirty seconds, then add the remainder, pouring in an_ _anti-clockwise_ _direction—_

"—an immensely complex potion and very easy to get wrong, which is why our first attempt will be a trial run," boomed Slughorn. "Does anyone know the sole reason why any attempt we begin today will be impossible to finish to completion?"

My hand shot into the air reflexively. My cheeks grew pink as Severus gave me a sideways glance.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" said Slughorn, voice full of unconcealed delight. Of course he already knew my name. The hopeful look on his broad face made it very obvious that he expected great things from the long-lost Dumbledore.

_I give it a month before he attempts to recruit me to the bloody Slug Club again._

"Veritaserum is a syzygetic potion, sir," I replied, voice steady, acutely aware that every eye in the room was fixed on me. "It requires one full lunar cycle to mature, and the brewing processes must be initiated on the first day of the new moon. If begun on any other day of the month, the resultant product will be nothing more than pure water."

"Excellent!" said Slughorn happily. "Now, not only is Veritaserum a syzygetic potion, but it is also—" Slughorn beamed at me when he saw my goddamned hand in the air once again.

_Knock it off, you bloody stubborn appendage,_ I thought angrily.

"Ah, I trust Miss Granger can tell us!"

I flushed deeply. "It's also a biphasic potion, sir. The first phase consists of the actual brewing process, while the second phase requires the potion to remain in a cool, dark place throughout the lunar cycle. The only light it should be allowed to absorb during this time is the light of the full moon."

I sensed someone shift in the seat behind me. Five galleons on it being Remus.

"Couldn't have said it better myself!" said Slughorn, obviously impressed. "I see you've inherited your uncle's brilliance. Take ten well-earned points to Gryffindor."

I gave him a pleased smile. Honestly, sometimes I just couldn't help myself.

_Old habits die hard._

"As I said, today will be merely practice. At the next new moon, I expect you and your partner to use one of the practice dungeons to brew the first phase again, this time on your own. You will be marked as if it were the practical portion of your N.E.W.T.," continued Slughorn, his voice becoming uncharacteristically stern. "All final products of satisfactory quality will be provided for use by the Ministry for Magic. Bartemius Crouch, one of my former students, you know, and Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, will be absolutely thrilled to receive a few extra vials in these troubled times."

I zoned out for a bit as Slughorn continued to drone on. So I was now required to spend time with Severus outside of normal lessons. Was this a good turn of events or bad?

I wasn't quite sure.

"I'll gather the ingredients, you start the cauldron, yeah?" Severus said quietly. I looked up to see him inches away from me, eyebrows raised expectantly. Slughorn had finished speaking, and the sound of wooden chairs scraping against stone filled the room.

"Sure, of course," I muttered as Severus left for the supplies cupboard.

* * *

"Not bad, Granger. Not bad at all," Severus said softly as we cleaned up our area and packed our bags to leave. "I honestly wouldn't have considered fluffing the Jobberknoll feathers before adding them, but I've never seen such a pure shade of silver at that stage before."

I raised my eyebrows. "So you've brewed Veritaserum before, have you?"

He smirked at me, but didn't respond.

_Fucking typical._

I rolled my eyes and said playfully, "I trust you won't underestimate my abilities again, Severus."

That lovely grin he'd given me in Defense Against the Dark Arts flashed across his face again. "I think you've proven yourself, Granger. At least for—"

"It's Hermione," I interrupted. He raised his dark eyebrows at me. "Not Granger, not—" I lowered my voice to a whisper, "not  _Dumbledore._  Just Hermione, okay?"

His eyes widened for a moment, but his face slid back into his typical impassive expression quickly. "Okay, then. Hermione it is."

Before I could say anything else, Severus grabbed his threadbare bag and turned to leave. He was almost past the doorway of the classroom when he glanced back at me. I smiled at him from where I still sat, and his mouth opened for a moment before his lips slowly formed another small smile. I grinned into my lap once he was gone.

_Right place, right time._

Maybe I was actually making a difference.

* * *

_and the terror, and the horror_  
_gotta wonder why we bother? (whoa, whoa-oh)_  
_all the glamour, and the trauma_  
_and the fucking melodrama (whoa, whoa-oh)_  
Sober II (Melodrama) – Lorde

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Yep, I know. It's been an absolutely unacceptable amount of time since the last update. I've got a ton of reasons, but they all sound like excuses, so I won't bore you with them. I will say that I'm terribly, terribly sorry and I hope to never leave you guys hanging for that long ever again. I hope you can forgive me?
> 
> Alright, now that we've gotten that out of the way…
> 
> This chapter is a bit weird, I know. There's very little Sirius/Hermione interaction and we've got this huge Ron bit in the middle. To some people it may seem a little out of place, but I just didn't feel comfortable posting this chapter without it. You may have noticed from previous chapters that even though I'm writing a Sirimione fic, I'm still a huge fan of Ron/Hermione. Like really, by far my favorite pairing. What can I say, I'm a sucker for all things canon. I'm trying to keep my Hermione decently in character and close to canon (albeit with far more colorful language), and canon Hermione was absolutely head-over-heels in love with Ronald Weasley. Our time-traveling Hermione needed a moment to realize that she could let him go while still continuing to love him.
> 
> Secondly, I feel as if Hermione could be seen as a little Mary-Sue-ish in this chapter. I mean, stealing the Prince's book? Yep, just another way to make her look better. However, I maintain that it's so, so very Hermione-ish to refuse to let something like that remain a mystery. So, view it how you may.
> 
> Aaaaaand lastly, I've been building a Spotify playlist entitled Wizarding Wireless Network: GTTN consisting of songs relating to the fic and songs that are just fun to write to. If you guys have any suggestions, PLEASE send them my way in a review.
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking around and reading the update! Please, please take a moment to review and let me know what you think :)
> 
> (sorry for the long author's note, I hate them too)  
> -liz


	18. Rumbled

* * *

**Chapter 18: Rumbled**

* * *

Dumbledore had at least taught Harry something about certain kinds of magic, of the incalculable power of certain acts.  
_—Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows,_  J.K. Rowling

* * *

**Seventh Year Boy's Dormitory, Gryffindor Tower**

* * *

"Are you done being a moody sod, or are you going to force us to resort to desperate measures?"

Remus leaned against the doorframe of the nearly empty dormitory, hands shoved in the pockets of his school trousers. He looked expectantly over at where Sirius sat atop his unmade bed, bent low over an unfolded stretch of yellowed parchment.

"Bugger off," Sirius muttered without looking up. His eyes were fixed upon a specific point on the Marauder's Map in front of him.

Remus sighed in a usual sort of way as he entered the room to stand at the foot of Sirius's four-poster. After six years of friendship, he'd grown quite accustomed to Sirius's antics. Though James may be closer to Sirius, it had been proven time and time again that Remus was the only Marauder capable of talking sense into the mutt when he was acting barmy.

"What, are you stalking her now?" asked Remus, his voice mild despite the reprimand. "This is becoming creepy, Padfoot. Not to mention wildly out of character. Peter is convinced that you're having some sort of mental breakdown."

Sirius rolled his eyes.

Remus folded his arms across his chest.

"You've been brooding long enough," Remus continued patiently. "I told you there's nothing on with her and—"

"Look," interrupted Sirius, shoving the map roughly across the bed toward Remus. "See who she's with."

Remus ducked his head to examine the map, his eyes roaming the parchment until they suddenly widened with comprehension.

"Oh."

"Yep. She's with him again," Sirius ground out. "Alone in his office."

"Sirius," said Remus, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation." Sirius snorted skeptically. "No, stop. I trust Hermione, and I thought you did too. We may not have known her long, but does she really seem like the type to get off with a professor?"

Sirius didn't respond. He continued to scowl over Remus's shoulder, refusing to make eye contact.

"Honestly, what the fuck is your problem? Why has this gotten you so out of sorts? It's not as if—" Sirius's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and guilt, making Remus groan. It was a look he knew all too well. "Fucking hell, you shagged her, didn't you?" accused Remus.

"No I bloody well didn't!" Sirius retorted. Remus pursed his lips with obvious doubt. Sirius had the grace to look slightly sheepish. "We didn't, honest. But er, I  _might_  have snogged her—or tried to, at least."

"Tried to?" repeated Remus.

Sirius groaned and scuffed a hand over his unshaven face, leaving it over his eyes as he spoke. "I went to see her at her dad's pub on Sunday. We talked for a while, and—all signs pointed to go, you know. She seemed all for it at first, but out of nowhere she freaked out and Disapparated."

"You bloody prat," said Remus, shaking his head and sinking to sit at the end of the bed. Sirius looked at his friend through his long fingers, face scrunched in confusion. "You said her mum died and she had no choice but to leave America, right?" Sirius nodded. "Did you ever consider that she might've left someone behind?"

Sirius frowned and lowered his hand slowly.

"She had a life before she got here," Remus continued, "and it didn't involve either of the Prewett twins. You know better than anyone how the  _Prophet_  thrives on unfounded gossip. Wasn't there an article last winter claiming you'd gone off and eloped with Narcissa?"

Sirius laughed dryly.  _"'A Christmas Wedding for the Kissing Cousins'_ was the headline, I think. Malfoy was bloody hacked off—threatened to open a Ministry inquiry into the paper's journalistic ethics."

"My point exactly. Utter nonsense." Remus pushed the map away so that it landed in Sirius's lap. "Anyway, Professor Prewett didn't even know Hermione's name on the first day of lessons, don't you remember?"

"Er, no," replied Sirius, shaking his head. "Not everyone is swotty enough to memorize every second of class like you."

Remus cast his eyes up to the ceiling as if praying for strength.

"Fine, all of that makes sense," Sirius conceded, "but it still doesn't explain why she's been spending so much time with him."

"Bloody fuck, you're smarter than this, Sirius," said Remus, his terse tone betraying his growing frustration. Sirius raised an eyebrow, looking mildly offended. "She's Albus Dumbledore's niece! She's ace at dueling, and Prewett is an Auror. Have you ever considered that there's something far more important going on here?"

Sirius sat up a little straighter, his muscles tensing. "You don't mean—"

"You know exactly what I mean. It may not just be rumors."

They both knew what rumors he was referring to.

"But her? She's just so…" Sirius trailed away, knowing the remainder of his sentence would sound a bit sexist.

"Size has nothing to do with power, you idiot. You've seen how reflexive fighting comes to her. She's a perfect candidate."

Sirius didn't respond, instead choosing to look down at the map, his eyes unfocused and mouth turned into a worried frown.

After a long silence, Remus said quietly, "You owe her an apology, mate."

"An apology?" Sirius repeated jerkily. "You know I'm shit at those."

"Yeah, but she deserves it," said Remus. His voice had taken on a strange tone. "I just have this, this…" He stumbled over his words momentarily, as if unsure how to articulate his thought. "This strong _feeling._  I know it sounds mental, but I feel like Hermione is important somehow. Not just important… crucial, even. There are some types of magic that are impossible to explain, and she—"

"I know what you mean," Sirius interrupted. "I felt it the moment I first saw her, I think—when I found her all bloodied up in the Great Hall. There's something about her…" He let his sentence tail away. "I reckon that's why that article got under my skin," he added, just then realizing it himself.

"Don't mess her around," Remus said eventually, his voice unusually sharp. "Quit thinking with your knob and just be her friend, okay?"

They stared at each other for a long moment before Sirius nodded.

"I'll see you later, Pads," Remus said as he stood and walked toward the door of the dormitory. "You know the right thing to do."

As Remus pulled the door shut behind him, Sirius glanced back down at the map. Hermione and Prewett were no longer in the professor's office. After a moment of searching, he spotted them walking along the seventh floor corridor before they both came to a halt halfway down. He watched the small inked dot labeled  _Hermione Granger_ pace back and forth along the same path three times before both she and Prewett disappeared from the map entirely.

_What the hell?_  Sirius thought, snatching up the map and holding it only inches away from his face. He examined it again to ensure he wasn't mistaken.

But both dots had completely vanished.

"Mischief managed," he muttered, pointing his wand at the map to wipe it clean before throwing himself back onto his bed and covering his eyes with his hands again.

He was tired of the mystery, tired of the constant frustration he felt when he thought of Hermione Granger.

In that moment, he craved something simple.

He swung his legs off the edge of the bed, sliding his socked feet into his high-top trainers as he stood, and snatched his leather jacket from the cluttered floor.

And he knew just where to find it.

* * *

  **Hermione:**

* * *

"Where the  _hell_  have you brought us?" Gideon asked as he gazed incredulously around the spacious room.

"That question has a two part answer," I replied, smiling at the look of awe on Gideon's face. "We're in the Room of Requirement, also known as the Come and Go Room. Not many know of it because it only appears when a person is in need of its services. The room provided exactly what I requested."

"So what did you ask it for?" questioned Gideon as he explored the room. He passed a table full of dark detectors, his eyes focusing briefly on a cracked and shadowy Foe Glass before approaching the nearest bookshelf and running his fingers along the spines of numerous defensive textbooks.

"The Headquarters of Dumbledore's Army," I answered quietly.

He spun round to gape at me. "Er, come again?"

"It's a long story."

"We've got time," said Gideon, eyes wide with curiosity. "Your future is fascinating, Hermione. I want to know everything."

"Everything, eh?" I repeated with a laugh. "Well, we might as well get comfortable. Pull up a cushion." I motioned to the pile of overstuffed cushions on the ground near us.

"Well?" Gideon said eagerly once we were both settled.

"I guess I should start with the night of the Third Task…"

* * *

So I told him everything—well,  _nearly_  everything, at least—from the moment Harry landed in the graveyard in Little Hangleton up until the end of my fifth year. I chose not to share Harry's full backstory, but Gideon made me promise that I'd go into detail another day. He remained absolutely spellbound from the moment I began, seeming to hang on to my every word. He gasped in horror at the details of Voldemort's rebirth, swelled with pride at the reformation of the Order of the Phoenix, and scowled in distaste when I told him of Umbridge's appointment to the very position he now held.

"Wait, Dolores Umbridge?" he interrupted. "Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office?"

"I don't know what position she holds now, but in my time she'd risen to Senior Undersecretary to the Minister."

"She's a right nasty piece of work," said Gideon, freckled nose wrinkled in disgust. "Last month she did her best to arrest an Auror in my unit for alleged excessive force. Utter rubbish. Everyone knew it was only because Williamson is a Muggle-born and he sent a Pure-blood to Azkaban."

"You don't have to tell me," I said, nodding, "and she's only going to get worse."

I continued my story, and when I described the origins of Dumbledore's Army, he actually gave me a high-five of approval.

"We were foolish," I said sadly after I finished recounting our run-in with the Death Eaters awaiting us in the Department of Mysteries. I remained vague at this point, omitting the prophecy altogether and instead using Sirius's cop-out terminology of  _weapon._  "I should have tried harder to make Harry see reason."

"There's nothing more you could have done," Gideon reassured. Ron had repeated these exact words many times in the months following our trip to the Department of Mysteries, but my guilt never lessened. "If your friend Harry is as stubborn as you make him out to be, he would have gone with or without you."

At some point Gideon had ended up sprawled out on the ground, his head propped up on several cushions. I, too, had somehow found myself lying on my back, perpendicular to Gideon, my cushion forgotten beneath my feet. I'd been so engrossed in finally sharing my life with someone, I hadn't even noticed that I'd chosen to use Gideon's legs as a pillow. I flushed faintly at the intimacy of it, but Gideon didn't appear to be bothered at all. In fact, he seemed completely relaxed, fingers toying with a loose curl escaped from my plait.

"True," I sighed, "but everything changed after that. The battle… Sirius's death—it was a turning point for all of us."

"I can imagine," he murmured. "You made it out unscathed though, right?"

"Relatively," I replied with a shrug. "I took a pretty nasty curse, but considering the worst possible outcome, I actually got off pretty lucky."

"How so?"

"Dark magic only penetrated about a quarter of what it should have. Only my ribs were affected rather than all of my internal organs melting together."

"Your ribs… melted?" Gideon spluttered. I felt his muscles stiffen against my cheek.

"It wasn't as bad as it sounds," I lied.

I thought it best not to tell him of the dozens of potions I required for weeks, of Madam Pomfrey's warning that I might need to spend my entire summer holiday in the Hogwarts hospital wing…

"I ended up with nothing more than a pretty gnarly scar. The curse likely would have been fatal if Dolohov hadn't been silenced."

"Dolohov," Gideon spat, his tone suddenly hostile. "He's been a suspect in a few instances of Muggle torture over the past year, but we haven't found enough evidence to arrest, much less obtain a conviction."

I bolted suddenly upright. "Be careful with him, Gideon," I warned sharply. "Fabian, too."

He chuckled. "I'm good at my job, Hermione."

I frowned at him. "I'm serious. He's—" I broke off, realizing it would be unwise to finish my sentence.

I turned to face him, folding my knees up to my chest. Gideon searched my face carefully, likely noting the undisguised worry displayed there.

"Oh," he breathed, comprehension dawning. "He's the one that offs us, isn't he?"

I grimaced.

"We'll be careful," he said after a moment. "But we won't stop doing our job out of fear. Like I said at St. Mungo's, you can't change everything."

I bit my lip, angry at the casual way in which he discussed his possible murder. The thought of Gideon dying was utterly unfathomable. He was my friend, my only confidant. I wrapped my arms around my knees, my fingernails digging into the delicate skin of my thighs.

_I needed him._

Seeming to sense my distress, he placed a hand on one of my feet and squeezed it briefly. "You don't have to worry about us, Hermione. We'll be cautious." He smiled reassuringly. "We had Moody as a mentor. Constant vigilance is second nature at this point."

I couldn't help but smile at that.

Gideon checked his watch. "Blimey, it's already half eleven. We should probably head back."

I shook my head as if to rid it of the depressing end to our conversation.

"So much for dueling practice," I said as he stood and helped me to my feet.

He waved a hand dismissively as we walked toward the door. "Eh, next time." He held the polished wooden door open for me and whispered, "Straight back to the tower, okay? We don't need you getting a detention."

"Of course, Professor."

_Another lie._

He smirked as he bid me goodnight before we parted ways.

Near the end of the corridor, I ducked into an alcove behind a dusty tapestry and waited until I could no longer hear Gideon's retreating footsteps. Once certain he was gone, I cast a silent Disillusionment charm upon myself and stepped back out into the corridor, using the dim light of a flickering torch to ensure I was well concealed. Satisfied with my spellwork, I turned in the direction of the nearest staircase, Mulciber's rough voice echoing inside my head.

_'Forest. Thursday at midnight.'_

I had a secret Death Eater meeting to crash.

* * *

I was only a few steps away from the second floor landing when I heard a high-pitched voice whine, "But Sirius, I've  _missed_  you. Can't you stay just a bit longer?"

I froze as the door of a broom cupboard a few paces away swung open and two people stumbled out. A petite blonde in rumpled and undone Hufflepuff robes pouted as she gazed up at Sirius, who was trying to extract himself from her embrace. After a few tugs, he managed to remove her arms from around his waist.

"It's getting late, love. Maybe another night."

The charm in his voice was undeniable, and the girl seemed to concede defeat.

"Fine," she sighed. I could sense the relief on Sirius's face even though the lamps on this landing had been extinguished. "I had a great time tonight. As always," she purred into his ear before kissing his cheek and flouncing down the staircase.

Moonlight from a nearby window threw Sirius's face into relief, and he grinned in a satisfied sort of way as he watched her go. He took a few seconds to smooth his hair before turning to head up the staircase toward Gryffindor tower. I moved hastily out of his path and pressed myself flat against the stone wall. He was almost to the foot of the stairs when he froze abruptly, his eyebrows contracting and his nose strangely rising to sniff the air like a dog. He stood stock-still for a moment. I held my breath.

"I know you're there, Hermione," he whispered finally.

I gasped.

He chuckled.

_Damn it, I've been rumbled._

A scowl plastered across my face, I used my wand to silently remove the Disillusionment charm. I took the last few steps until I was standing in front of him, arms crossed across my chest.

"How did you know?" I demanded.

A faint blush briefly topped his cheeks. "Er, I smelt you. Your shampoo is pretty distinct. Like green apples."

Evidently his animagus form had bestowed him with a heightened sense of smell. I filed that fact away for future use.

"I'll be sure to toss it out later," I replied, deadpan.

"Nah, don't do that," he said with a smirk. "Green apples are my favorite fruit."

I blinked up at him.

"Well, as lovely as this little chat has been—" I began, moving my wand to recast the charm, but before my mind could form the incantation, his hand shot out, fingers gently encircling the wrist of my wand arm.

"So where are we off to, kitten?" he asked sweetly.

I gave the offending hand a hard thump with the thumb and pointer finger of my left hand, forcing him to loosen his grip. I shook him away before responding, "First of all, _ew._ Merlin only knows where your fingers have been."

I screwed up my face in disgust.

He roared with laughter.

"Secondly, no, no, no.  _We_  aren't going anywhere. Where  _I_ am going is none of your business."

"Ah, I thought you might say that," he said, composing himself then nodding his head wisely. "But see, the thing is—" He paused for dramatic effect. "You need me."

I felt my right eye twitch.

" _Need_  you? And why might that be?"

"Other than the obvious, you mean?" he teased, wiggling his eyebrows wickedly. I groaned quietly, and he raised both hands to shoulder height in surrender. "Only joking, only joking. You need me because although that was one hell of a Disillusionment charm, I have something better."

He reached into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and withdrew a very familiar shining, silvery cloth. It flowed like liquid through the air as he held it out in front of me.

"James's invisibility cloak!" I gasped.

He narrowed his eyes. "How did you know it belongs to James?"

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

"I, er—overheard Peter mention it a few days ago," I replied nervously before diverting him with a question of my own. "So why do you have it?"

"James is a generous bloke. It's free game for the rest of us if he doesn't need it," he answered, shrugging dismissively.

"Even if you're borrowing it to get off with some Hufflepuff?" I asked, unable to stop myself.

He arched an eyebrow.

"Jealous, kitten?" he whispered, smirking as he took a step closer to me.

I scoffed.

The nerve of him!

"Honestly, Sirius? Do you  _really_  want to go there? Right here? Right now?"

He deflated, his smirk immediately sliding into a grimace. "Touché."

He opened and closed his mouth silently a few times, his eyes squeezed shut as if the next words on his tongue were causing him actual physical pain.

"I reckon I'm sorry about that," he finally muttered.

Well, that was unexpected.

— _but not quite satisfactory._

"Oh, you only  _reckon_  you're sorry?"

He sighed and opened his eyes. Beautiful silver made my brain go fuzzy. I blinked rapidly and hoped the dark landing hid the blush creeping up my neck.

"I'm sorry I was such a prat, Hermione," he said, voice full to the brim with surprising sincerity. "I fucked up royally. I don't know what got into me."

_Good enough for me._

"I reckon you're forgiven, then," I replied, flashing him a quick grin.

His eyes lit up instantly.

_That was far easier than anticipated._

Hadn't I intended to use this row as an excuse to distance myself from him? I found it troubling how easy it was to forgive him. Being his friend was as simple as breathing, and nearly as essential. But  _why?_  I barely knew this version of Sirius.

I decided to explore these disconcerting thoughts at a later date. I forced my expression to match my stern admonition. "But for the record, if you so much as  _imply_  that I'm a slag again, you'll know first-hand how it feels to have your bollocks vanished."

He winced. "Not exactly my finest moment, I'll admit."

"Nope. Especially since you were dead wrong. I mean honestly, Sirius, you believed the bloody  _Prophet_  over me. Wait, no—that's not quite accurate. You refused to even hear out my side." I pursed my lips and eyed him appraisingly. "Who finally set you straight? Remus or Lily?"

"Remus," he admitted, shuffling his feet guiltily. "The ever-present voice of reason in my life. You may not have noticed, but I tend to overreact on occasion."

I rolled my eyes.

He grinned at me.

"So—friends?" he asked hopefully.

"I suppose," I replied, "at least until the next time you muck it up."

"Fair enough," he laughed.

We locked eyes, and an unspoken agreement seemed to pass between us:  _Don't mention the kiss and neither will I._ We continued our silent eye contact for a moment longer before we both nodded in unison.

His eyes flicked to my lips before he looked away.

"Now that's settled," he began, moving closer to my side and throwing the invisibility cloak over both our heads. The awkward air between us had dissipated completely. "What's the plan?"

I realized I had no choice but to allow him to accompany me. It would be wise to have backup in case things went sideways, right?

"On a scale of one to ten, how stealthy would you say you are?" I whispered as we descended the staircase together. His fingers brushed against mine with every step we took. I couldn't tell if it was intentional or not.

"Er, why?"

"How about your tracking skills? Concealment and disguise wouldn't hurt, either."

"Get to the point, kitten."

I looked over and grinned mischievously. "I have good reason to believe that a group of mini-Death Eaters will be holding a meeting in the Forbidden Forest in approximately—" I checked my watch, "ten minutes. And I intend to spy on it. You in?"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): An update in less than two weeks? Whaaaaat? It’s a shorter chapter than usual, but I thought this was a good place to leave it. I also wanted to post the next chapter quickly so you guys would trust that I’m not abandoning it. Please leave a review and let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, I've run into a bit of confusion with a reader or two on ff.net, which prompted me to write the next bit. It doesn't apply to any commenters here on Ao3, but I thought I'd include it anyway in case it helps clear up any questions. Feel free to totally skip it!
> 
> \------
> 
> I hate using author’s notes to reply to reviews, but I thought it necessary to clarify a few points. To the guest reviewer that claimed Hermione should have her own vine wood wand because she used it during the Final Battle: No, I’m afraid you are mistaken.
> 
> Hermione’s wand was confiscated — along with Ron's wand and the blackthorn wand Harry was using — by Snatchers before the trio was taken to Malfoy Manor, and she did not get it back before they escaped. For the rest of DH, Hermione was forced to use Bellatrix’s wand. This includes the Final Battle, which is why Hermione travels to the past with Bellatrix’s wand. The only other wand she could have had is Tonks’s wand, but she lost it in the chaos of being tossed back in time.
> 
> Also, I'm aware that it's quite OOC for Hermione to swear so much, but this is fanfiction. As I explained in a previous author's note, certain liberties have been taken. This also includes my canon deviation of Charlus and Dorea Potter rather than Fleamont and Euphemia. I try to stick to canon for the most part, including Pottermore and J.K.R. interviews, but I liked the dynamics of Charlus and Dorea, so I went with it. 
> 
> That’s not to say that Fleamont and Euphemia don’t exist, though! In the GTTN universe, they're James’s grandparents. James is still heir to the Sleekeazy fortune, just another generation removed. 
> 
> I hope this doesn’t come off as rude! I just wanted make sure we’re all on the same page. I apologize if my writing has been confusing or imprecise. I’m not a professional author, y’all. I’m just some random twenty-something med student that loves Harry Potter a little too much.
> 
> Sorry for the disgustingly long note, and as always, thank you for reading :)  
> -liz


	19. Untainted Magic

* * *

**Chapter 19: Untainted Magic**

* * *

More of the Death Eaters laughed, though the woman still laughed loudest of all.  
"It's time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter," said Malfoy.  
_—Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix,_ J.K. Rowling

* * *

"Are you kidding me? Of- _fucking-_ course I'm in."

I expected nothing less.

"Thought so," I whispered as Sirius and I approached the marble staircase leading to the empty Entrance Hall.

We walked together in silence, but I could practically  _feel_  him vibrating with anticipation. My head tilted to the side as I took a moment to survey him for the first time in days. I noticed how his fingers twitched, already itching to wrap around the handle of his wand. Though his expression remained collected and calm, there was a subtle spark in his eyes I'd never seen before, one surely extinguished in my time by the dementors of Azkaban.

Many found Sirius Black to be rather enigmatic, even those that took the time to delve past the surface. However, after a few years of studying his adult counterpart, I thought—a bit proudly, I must admit—that I could surmise the goings-on beneath that handsomely coiffed head of hair.

Sirius was never one to sit back and simply observe. At present, he was a man of action restrained only by circumstance—trapped within the castle during wartime, unable to contribute to the ongoing resistance. Having been there before, I understood. Being sidelined was bloody  _frustrating._ Combined with his misguided obligation to atone for his family's failures and urge to prove himself worthy of his chosen place in the wizarding world…

Well, it was more than enough to make any stable man certifiable—and let's be honest here, no witch or wizard with the surname  _Black_  could ever be deemed entirely sane.

During my stay at Grimmauld Place, it was obvious that Sirius maintained his sanity through perpetual action, and months of stagnation had strained him to the verge of breaking. His current feelings must pale in comparison to how useless he felt while confined to his mother's house of horrors.

Oh, and twelve years in Azkaban certainly hadn't helped matters much, either.

My vision shifted abruptly back into focus as we halted, and I was startled to find Sirius staring back at me, a slight crease between his brows. I averted my gaze forward and shook my head jerkily. God, that train of thought took a bleak turn—or perhaps a depressing nosedive might be more accurate.

We'd reached the front doors of the castle, and my face flooded with color with the realization that I must have been ogling him for the entire length of the Entrance Hall.

_Great, now you're just creepy. You've reached grade A levels of weird, Hermione._

To hide my embarrassment, I made to open one of the heavy double doors, but before my hand could make contact with wood, he grabbed my extended forearm and glanced over his shoulder. His eyes darted around the hall and his nostrils flared, likely searching for any hint of feline scent—wherever Mrs. Norris lurked, Filch was guaranteed to soon follow.

_How old was that bloody cat, anyway?_

"Quickly," muttered Sirius, cracking one of the oak doors just enough for us to slip out and nudging me through. "The lads and I have far more experience sneaking around after-hours," he stated once the balmy September breeze hit our faces and he pushed the door shut behind us. His face had grown serious and tone abnormally firm. "You should have taken one of us along with you."

I couldn't help but laugh.

_Actually, as a first year I smuggled a newly-hatched and vicious-as-hell Norwegian Ridgeback all the way from Hagrid's hut to the Astronomy Tower. Oh, and that wasn't even the first of many night time excursions during my time at Hogwarts._

I think I've had more than enough practice,  _thank you very much._

"I can handle my own," I retorted, biting down on my bottom lip to refrain from laughing even more.

"I don't doubt it," he replied without any hint of sarcasm, "but a little help never goes amiss."

I couldn't deny that he had a point, but I was accustomed to always having more than enough assistance—help that I never had to request, help that was faithfully by my side. Stranded in time without my two best friends, I was now forced to venture out on my own, and no matter what Sirius said, my mindset likely wouldn't change.

At least not anytime soon.

I grunted noncommittally as we crossed the grounds. I tugged the Invisibility Cloak closer as it fluttered around our ankles. Sirius was nearly as tall as Ron—six foot two, at minimum. After many years of vanishing beneath it, I was certain the cloak would cover us both if I shifted nearer to him, but I couldn't bring myself to make the move.

Trust Sirius to have contradictory plans.

A long arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me smoothly to his side. Fingers dug into my protruding ribs. "We only have so much cloak to work with, love. I don't bite, you know."

I flinched at this touch. "Don't call me  _love,"_  I replied flatly, working hard to keep any heat from my voice. I wanted friendship from him, not another row. "Don't treat me the same as some tart you're snogging in a broom cupboard."

I typically refrained from shaming what others got up to in private, but the girl's parting words— _'as always'_ —made my stomach turn.

He withdrew his arm and was silent for a bit too long before murmuring, "You're far from that, Hermione."

I had no bloody idea how to respond to such a statement, so I chose not to.

_Friendship, Hermione._

We didn't speak again until we reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"So where exactly is this meeting taking place?" he asked under his breath.

"Er…"

Honestly, I had no clue. I could approximate the locations of a few main clearings, but my original plan consisted of wandering along each path until I encountered some sort of hint. A weak strategy, at best, but considering the shoddy intel I was currently working off, it was my only option.

"Merlin, woman," he replied, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're fucking lucky to have run into me. Don't move, I'll be back in a moment."

He ducked out from beneath the cloak and darted off into the darkness before I could so much as blink.

"Sirius!" I hissed, astonished by this sudden abandonment.

I was left alone among the foliage that lined the perimeter of the forest, clutching the Invisibility Cloak around myself as I searched in vain for any sign of where he'd disappeared to. He was gone for a full minute before he finally came up behind me, hands grasping blindly in the air, searching for fabric. I dropped the cloak to my shoulders. He smiled when he spotted me and yanked it roughly back over our heads.

"Okay, I think I know where they'll be," he said a little breathlessly as he finished shoving something into the front pocket of his trousers.

_Oh, he's got the map. He couldn't let me see the map._

"Stick close to me," he said as he grasped my hand and pulled me along the main path leading into the forest.

"Roger that," I affirmed, breaking into a jog as I attempted to keep pace with his long strides.

"Er, what?" Sirius asked perplexedly. He slowed slightly when he noticed I had begun to fall behind.

"Muggle saying," I replied with a shrug, releasing his hand once we were again side by side. It was something my father had habitually said when I was a child, his military background leaking into all aspects of his life. Since my most recent nightmare, my parents had been at the forefront of my thoughts more than ever.

Sirius chuckled softly. We continued in the same direction for a quite a while, and I stumbled more than once over knots of half-concealed roots as the path became more densely overgrown. I had just begun to worry we'd gone too far when Sirius diverted unexpectedly to the left, abandoning the path. The trees surrounding us looked vaguely familiar; if I wasn't mistaken, we were near where Hagrid had taken us to meet Grawp. Sirius and I had journeyed so deep into the heart of the forest that scarcely any moonlight filtered through the canopy overhead, but we daren't light our wands at the risk of being seen.

"Bleeding fuck, Avery's garn kill us for being late again," I heard a wheezy voice groan through the thick growth of trees in front of us.

Faint recognition shot through me, but the intervening years made it difficult to identify the speaker. Sirius lessened his pace, and I envied the effortless way he walked in absolute silence; it was as if his feet were landing on nothing but pure air. I walked on tip-toe in a futile attempt to match my graceless footsteps to his.

_Sirius has the makings of an exemplary Auror,_  I thought with a strange jolt of pride. His stealth and tracking skills were nearly flawless.

"S'okay," replied another voice, this one female but no less wheezy. It was one of the most unattractive sounds I'd ever encountered. "Won't matter if we keep to the back."

The wizard scoffed in dissent, but neither said anything else. We were gaining on them now. A new, authoritative voice drifted toward us, and I knew Sirius and I were very near our goal.

I checked Harry's watch, holding it inches from my eyes to make out the delicate stars circling the face— _quarter past midnight._

"—by invitation only!" the unknown wizard's voice boomed. "An exclusive summons, an honor to have received! Only the best are here tonight. You are the elite, the purest in a sea of filth. The Dark Lord has requested your presence because he trusts your belief in the power of wizarding blood—of the power of the unadulterated, the sanctity of untainted magic!"

A loud, emphatic  _whoop_  broke into the night and wild cheering immediately followed. A flock of startled birds took flight from the treetops overhead.

The wizard's charisma reminded me of the televangelists my dad's mother would glue herself to every Sunday morning when I visited her as a child. I never once saw Nan attend a service, but the television was tuned to the same program every Sunday morning without fail. No matter what the priest said—whether it was rational or utter rubbish—the crowd followed with a resounding  _amen_  or shout of agreement.

Is this what it was like during the first war? Is this how Voldemort collected so many followers—this fervor and sense of revival?

But, it  _was_  a revival— _the growing revival of blood purity._

Sirius and I approached the clearing cautiously. Though the cloak was infallible, we chose our vantage point behind two trees with a small space in between, ideal for observing without being seen. The gap was only a few inches wide, so Sirius stood directly behind me, his head over mine as we both peered through. He barely brushed against me, but I had to will my body to stop responding as ridiculous heat rose up past my collar.

_Fucking hormones—now is not the time._

"For many of you, this is not your first meeting, nor will it be your last. But tonight—" the voice paused theatrically, and the silence that followed was full of restless anticipation. "Tonight we have  _new members_  joining our ranks!"

Distracted by Sirius's proximity, it took a moment for me to fully comprehend what the speaker had just announced.

_New members._

Regulus Black was here tonight.

_Bloody fucking hell._

Regulus was the reason I knew of this gathering in the first place! Why hadn't I considered such a complicating factor before bringing Sirius along?

_Foolish, foolish girl—_

Sirius must have felt me go rigid, because he ducked his head and breathed into my ear, "Don't worry, I already know he's out there."

I whipped my head around to face him— _needing_  to look straight into his eyes,  _needing_  to discover what silver had to tell me.

I was shocked to find no trace of fire there. He didn't appear angry, but instead rather… resigned.

My breath caught in my throat. Despite logic, I was certain the ache in my chest was the visceral pain of my heart shattering for him.

— _and for Regulus._

I nodded my understanding. He brought a finger to his lips, his eyes now warning me not to blow our cover. We both refocused our attention on the crowd we were meant to be observing. I combed through the backs of a disturbing number of heads, searching for the face of the wizard giving this disgustingly rousing speech.

I gasped audibly as I recognized the man on the magicked platform.

_'The company you keep, Weasley. I thought your family could sink no lower—'_

_Why_  hadn't I realized sooner? How many times had I heard him sneer insults at Harry and the Weasleys?

Sneer at  _me?_

_'Yes, it's Granger! Potter and his friends, caught at last!'_

Vomit bubbled at the back of my throat.

_He was near the massive fireplace of the drawing room with Narcissa and Draco a step behind him, his face drawn and skin a waxy yellow. I locked eyes with him, my own name echoing in my ears—Ron's terrified shouts. His sister-in-law cast the curse again—_

The pale, pointed face of a young Lucius Malfoy—so strikingly similar to his son's—stood proudly before a keen audience. Torches lined the clearing, casting an eerily imposing glow about him. He couldn't be more than twenty-four, if I correctly recalled Kreacher's copy of  _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_. It was no wonder I hadn't immediately recognized Lucius—this impassioned wizard was startlingly different than the shrewdly calculating man I had first met in Flourish and Blotts.

The palm of Sirius's hand covered my mouth, quieting any further sounds. I swallowed back the bile burning my tongue. My entire body trembled, and I knew I was powerless to stop it. I took an uneasy step forward, hands pressed against both trees for support. I hoped Sirius wouldn't sense the fear that had enveloped me.

Lucius droned on for quite a while, giving me time to compose myself. It wasn't anything I hadn't heard before—horrible drivel on how  _Mudbloods_ were worth less than a smashed flobberworm beneath your boot and being a pure-blood practically made you royalty. After minutes filled with degrading words that I swore had begun to scorch my eardrums, Lucius called the new recruits forward.

"Though the Dark Lord is pleased with your acceptance, there is still more to come before he will truly call you  _his."_

Half a dozen wizards and one witch walked slowly, almost  _reverently,_  forward to the platform.

"I can't—" Sirius choked behind me. His hands grasped my shoulders for the briefest of seconds. "I can't watch this."

I found myself once again alone beneath the cloak. I heard the pounding of heavy paws as a four-legged creature sprinted through the undergrowth, and I knew he was gone.

* * *

"Jugson, Walker, Vaisey, Hall, Wilkes, Fawley—" I faltered and swallowed thickly, "and, er, Black."

"Black?" repeated Dumbledore, brows creased.

He sat behind his desk, surveying me over his half-moon spectacles. He was clad in a blindingly silver dressing gown that perfectly matched the shade of his beard, and despite the hour, his head was topped in a black wizards hat spangled with silver stars. I fixed my eyes over his shoulder to the portrait of the former Headmaster Armando Dippet, who gazed straight back at me unashamedly. It was the most uncomfortable staring contest of my life.

I had abandoned my stakeout prematurely after hearing details of their task to torment Muggle-borns throughout the term. I just couldn't stomach the rally any longer. I carefully noted the names of each freshly minted Death-Eater-In-Training before stumbling my way out the forest alone, Invisibility Cloak wrapped tightly around myself. I didn't quite remember how, but before I knew it, I was blinking at the gargoyle guarding the entrance of the Headmaster's Study.

I let the cloak fall to my shoulders, and the gargoyle raised its eyebrows.

"Password?"

_Well, fuck._

"I need to see the Headmaster," I stated firmly.

"Don't we all," said the gargoyle in a bored voice.

It was as if it were a stonework of Lavender Brown in one of her moods, filing its nails and tutting dismissively.

"Must I go through an endless list of sweets?" I burst out, almost stamping my foot frustration. "Because I'm really fucking tired, and I doubt either of us want to go through the trouble."

I was very tempted to pull the trump card of ' _don't you know who the fuck I am?'—_ but I didn't, because honestly, _I_  didn't even know who I was anymore.

"Does it look like I have anything better do?" replied Gargoyle the Unhelpful dispassionately.

I groaned and slid down the stone wall across from the entrance. I brought my knees to my chest as I considered my options. It was inappropriately late at night. I knew I should just return to my dormitory, but I felt a strong compulsion to tell Dumbledore everything I had observed.

But how?

_Oh._

I sprang to my feet and withdrew my wand. An image of the entire Weasley family burst inside my head like a Wildfire Whiz-bang. It was the moving black-and-white photograph heading the  _Daily Prophet_  article after Arthur won the Grand Prize Galleon Draw, except this time Gideon and Fabian stood on either end, waving and grinning goofily.

_"Expecto patronum!"_

The silver otter blossomed from the tip of my wand. I thought the necessary incantation and wielded my wand to the stone ceiling.  _"Go to Albus Dumbledore,"_ I whispered, very aware that this was the second time in a week I'd spoken those words.  _"Tell him: 'Meet me in your office as soon as possible.'"_

My little otter nodded rather adorably and swooped straight through the stone above me, hopefully racing toward Dumbledore. I removed the Invisibility Cloak and tucked it into a rather spacious pocket of my jean jacket. Though it was scorched in places and the distinct smell of smoke lingered about it, courtesy of Crabbe and his cursed fire, I continued to wear it when necessary. My beaded bag wasn't the only item I had spelled with an Undetectable Extension Charm.

The gargoyle leapt aside to permit me entrance in under ten minutes.

That's how I ended up slumped in a leather armchair facing the Headmaster's desk, recounting my surveillance and now worrying I'd made a mistake in coming at all. The silver lining was that I hadn't yet received a reprimand for being out of bounds after hours.

"Yes, Black," I replied, still staring unblinkingly at the portrait of Armando Dippet.

My eyes began to water.

Dippet winked saucily, startling me. He chuckled quietly at my reaction.

I scowled and returned my gaze to Dumbledore.

"But not Sirius!" I added, seeing the troubled look on the Headmaster's face. "Regulus! Sirius would never—"

"I know how the Black brothers have chosen to align themselves," interjected Dumbledore.

My tongue took off before I had time to consider the consequences.

"Good! Remember that, because Sirius Black is the most loyal wizard you will ever meet. I know his surname has tainted his reputation, but he will  _never_  cross over to the dark." My eyes burned into Dumbledore's, willing him to see the sincerity within my head.  _"Never,"_ I practically growled. "No matter what rubbish evidence you may think you have to the contrary."

"I assume this was an issue in your future?" asked Dumbledore. I had to give him credit for how calmly he was reacting.

I laughed dryly. "That's one hell of an understatement, Uncle." I debated my next statement for a moment, but the language center of my brain seemed to have gone rogue. "And I don't think Regulus is as dark as he appears, either."

"Interesting," Dumbledore mused. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. I fidgeted in my chair, worried I'd crossed a line, but when he opened his eyes and spoke, his voice was gentle. "Have you ever heard of a Pensieve, Hermione?"

"Of course, sir," I replied instantly. "I've never used one myself, but Harry did regularly—with you, actually."

Dumbledore hummed quietly, and I thought I heard him murmur Harry's name under his breath.

"I know this is a rather burdensome request," he continued, voice still delicate as if prepared for my refusal, "but would you consider providing me with a collection of your memories to peruse? I think it would be the most concise method of bringing us both to the same page."

"My memories?" I repeated warily.

He was right to be worried.

"Only the most relevant," he clarified. "You may take as much time as you need to compile them, of course. I know how taxing such an endeavor can be."

"Er—" I began, still not entirely sure. The idea of bringing forward so many distressing memories was unpleasant, to say the least. But his rationale made sense—it was the easiest way to share my future with him. I took a steadying breath. "I suppose, sir."

"Thank you," he replied graciously. "It will not be easy, but it will benefit our cause greatly." He drew his wand from the pocket of his dressing gown and conjured a box containing a few crystal bottles. My eyes landed on the Elder wand and I couldn't suppress a shudder. Though I had already encountered it since arriving in this decade, it was difficult to not flinch at the sight of the wand that had almost brought about my death.

Dumbledore demonstrated the incantation to siphon memories, and we practiced together for a handful of minutes before he was satisfied with my spellwork.

"Professor Lupin was correct," Dumbledore said quietly as he slid the box of crystal bottles across his desk—bottles I knew were charmed to protect memories from magical sabotage, just like the flask I had once conjured for Harry. "Clever, indeed. If memory serves correctly, it took me far longer to master such a difficult spell. Cerebral magic is one of the most complex branches."

I flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and pride. "It's easier when the fate of the wizarding world is on the line, Professor."

He shook his head and smiled. "There is no need for modesty with me, Hermione." He stood and gestured to the door in a clear dismissal. "I think it is far past time for us to part. You have Ancient Runes bright and early, if I am not mistaken. If you find need to call upon my office again, the password is  _Ice Mice._ " I scooped up the box and followed him to the door of his study. "Oh, and expect correspondence from Professor Prewett within the next few days. Your partner will inform you of the time and date of the next Order meeting."

"My partner?" I repeated in surprise as he held the door open for me.

"I took your advice to heart. No member of the Order of the Phoenix should be left without support."

_Gideon was my partner._

I cheered internally.

"And Fabian?" I asked.

"He has been assigned a new partner as well."

I beamed at him.

"Thank you, Uncle Albus," I said earnestly. I paused for a moment, knowing what I was about to do would be weird as fuck, but…

I tucked the box under my arm and reached forward to give him a one-armed hug. As expected, Dumbledore was surprised, but quickly chuckled and patted me lightly on the back.

"Goodnight, my dear niece. We shall meet again soon."

* * *

_"No! Fuck, oh please, no… Help—"_

I think it was my own screams that woke me. I was coated in sweat, soaked all the way through to the mattress. I bolted upright, gasping and clutching my arms around my chest. My sheets had been kicked to the foot of the bed and somehow my wand was already in my hand, gold sparks flickering from the tip. I was grateful for the silencing charm I had cast on the hangings around my bed.

_But I had taken the potion, hadn't I?_

It seemed my nightmares were now strong enough to combat my dosage of Dreamless Sleep Draught—or, perhaps it was just the lingering effect of seeing Lucius Malfoy again. I had dreamed of Malfoy Manor, but this time, no chandeliers had fallen. No one had come to my rescue.

Instead, Bellatrix had passed me off to Greyback.

_'So soft,' he rasped, pointed brown canines bared. He ran his tongue across them hungrily. The sharp smell of him—dirty and distinctly metallic—sent me into waves of nausea. 'So delicious…'_

_His filthy hands slid up my inner thighs once again, claws slashing through the fabric of my jeans and into my skin, just like he had done when he bound me—_

I leapt out of bed and dashed to the lavatory as my stomach heaved. I managed to make it to the toilet bowl before retching until nothing but acid came up. Groaning, I sank onto the cool tile floor, wiping my mouth against the back of my hand.

"Fucking disgusting," I muttered to myself.

I tilted my head back against the wall and sat there shivering for a while before I noticed the throbbing in my left forearm. Dread engulfing me, I looked down slowly to find the sleeve of my night shirt drenched in bright red blood.

"Fuck," I whispered as I peeled back my sticky sleeve.

Rather than the usual healed purple lines, each slice looked fresh as the night it was given, angry red and seeping blood. I blinked at my arm in a daze.

How could this have possibly happened?

_'The Dark Arts are living, Hermione,'_  pointed out the voice of Tom Riddle inside my head.  _'Magic with a mind of its own, ever-mutating and eternal.'_

I was reminded of the words Remus had said to the three of us in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

_'I believe that we are facing magic many of us have never encountered or imagined.'_

I pushed the  _how_  from my mind and focused on the  _next._ I needed to clean myself up before anyone saw. I took a deep breath before dragging myself from the tile floor and heading to the showers.

* * *

"Sirius!"

I found him the next morning along a corridor leading to Defense, walking alone with his head bowed. Whether he hadn't heard my call or was simply ignoring me, I couldn't be sure. I quickened my pace until I was only a step behind him.

"Sirius?" I repeated, this time much quieter, wrapping a hand around his bicep to get his attention. He jumped; evidently he was too distracted to have noticed me.

"Yeah?" he answered, a little harshly.

"I have something for you," I said, recoiling slightly at his tone but my hand never left his arm. He sighed but didn't resist as I pulled him into the nearest empty classroom. I closed the door behind us and turned to face him.

He sat atop a nearby desk and I couldn't help but stare, jaw slack. He looked dreadful. His usually smooth hair was unkempt and he hadn't made any attempt whatsoever to conform to uniform standards. Not only was he missing his robes, but his tie was draped loosely around his neck and the top three buttons of his shirt were undone. Deep purple shadows beneath his eyes screamed his lack of sleep.

It's not as if I looked much better, though. It had taken ages to stop the bleeding last night. Dittany was nearly useless on cursed wounds, so I eventually had to resort to Muggle methods of applying steady pressure and multiple bandages.

"Well?" he said, pushing his fringe from his eyes as he finally made eye contact with me.

"Oh, right," I replied, still shaken by his appearance. I reached into my school bag and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak. "I doubt James would be too thrilled if you didn't return this."

His lips parted with an  _oh_  of realization and his expression softened. "Thanks," he muttered, reaching out to take it.

"Of course," I replied as he stuffed it into his bag.

He didn't answer. We both shifted awkwardly, looking anywhere in the room except at each other. I bit my lip, hating that we'd ended up here once again.

"Look, I'm sorry for ditching—" he began, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Don't," I interrupted, jerking my eyes back to him. A muscle jumped in his temple as he clenched his jaw and swallowed.

_I couldn't allow him to apologize for last night._

He shouldn't have been there at all.

"Come here," I said gently. He arched an eyebrow but stayed frozen, so I stepped forward to him instead. I stopped only inches from his knees and tugged at his scarlet and gold tie. "You'll get a detention if you show up to class like this."

My fingers slowly did the remaining buttons on his shirt, my eyes never straying to his face. "You don't have to apologize this time," I whispered as I began to swiftly knot his tie. I had ample practice; Harry had been rubbish at it until halfway through our second year, having never had someone to teach him before arriving at Hogwarts. I smoothed it down once finished, leaving my hand against his chest as I said, "I'm the one who should be sorry. You shouldn't have had to see that."

Before I knew it, both of his hands wrapped around my wrists and he pulled me forward until I was standing between his parted knees. His head dipped so that his forehead pressed against mine.

"Don't apologize either," he murmured. "I had to see him. I needed proof. I left because I knew I'd do something stupid if I didn't, something I'd regret. But—" He brushed his nose lightly against my own. It was oddly cold. "I'm glad you were the one there with me."

He hopped off the desk suddenly, shifting me away in the process. He squeezed my wrists lightly before letting go and walking to the door. He opened it and turned back to me, eyebrows raised, "Coming? We've got class."

I followed with a smile.

* * *

_no, i don't want to battle from beginning to end_  
_i don't want a cycle of recycled revenge_  
_i don't want to follow Death and all of his friends_  
Death and All His Friends – Coldplay

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Not quite the epic showdown many of you were hoping for, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Sirius is trying to mature and not act so rashly all the time, which is why he didn't stick around and cause a scene with Regulus.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, a huge thanks to my two betas Mahawna and Zabethou. They've been beta-ing for me for the past two chapters as well, and I'm so grateful for their help!


	20. Little Autumn Squash

* * *

**Chapter 20: Little Autumn Squash**

* * *

"It… well, I don't know whether… but it's worth trying and I'm the only one who can…"  
"I  _hate_ it when she does that," grumbled Ron as he and Harry got up from the table and made their own, slower way out of the Great Hall. "Would it kill her to tell us what she's up to for once? It'd take her about ten more seconds."  
_—Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix,_  J.K. Rowling

* * *

"Someone remind me again why I'm here?" Lily huffed as she crossed her ankles and propped her feet up onto the bench in front of us. Her auburn waves rippled in the breeze as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and looked around accusingly.

"To support our team, of course!" answered Mary happily, tightening the bow of the long scarlet ribbon tying back her hair. "Come on, it's our last year. It would have been criminal to miss Gryffindor tryouts."

I sat in the Gryffindor section of the Quidditch stands with Lily, Mary, Alice, and for some strange reason, Delia. The afternoon was pleasantly warm. I closed my eyes and tilted my head upward, soaking in the sunlight. It had taken quite a while for Mary and Alice to convince me to join them. Though I appreciated their effort to include me, I think they knew that if I were to go, Lily wouldn't refuse either. I had to actively force myself to suppress the discomfort and distinct emptiness I felt as I watched the contenders stretch and take to the air to warm up. Though I had prepared myself for no flash of vibrant red, it was still odd to see jet black hair flying without Ron hovering near the goal hoops.

"I've managed to avoid it for six years," Lily grumbled under her breath.

Alice hushed her with a stern look. "We're here to support Marlene."

Lily frowned guiltily. "I know," she sighed. "I was just planning to start my Arithmancy essay this afternoon."

"We'll get to it tomorrow," said Remus as he plopped down onto the bench beside me, followed by Peter on his other side. "Hermione said she knows of a book that may help, so we can all meet in the library together."

_Er, what book now?_

Remus shot me a significant side-eye. I cottoned on quickly and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it delves deeper into Professor Vector's introduction to the Chaldean system," I added. "Don't worry, Lils. We've got plenty of time."

"Sure, sure," muttered Lily, nose wrinkled as she squinted down at the pitch, eyes following one player specifically. She groaned softly as James dismounted his broom and used the tail of his practice jersey to wipe sweat from his brow, briefly revealing his extremely toned abdomen.

Honestly, I couldn't blame her. That display was enough to make any warm-blooded female hot and bothered.

"You work too hard, Lily," Delia chimed in. "A break every now and again is good for your health."

"I didn't get to be Head Girl by taking  _breaks_  whenever I fancied them," Lily retorted bitingly.

Delia narrowed her eyes at Lily's tone. An awkward silence fell over our section of the stands.

"So—" Peter began with obvious effort. "Who do you think will replace Barton? Brilliant Seeker, he was. Did you hear he's been signed as a reserve for the Tornados?"

The silence dissolved as everyone began discussing last year's Seeker and his potential in the professional Quidditch league.

I looked over at Remus conspiratorially and decided to take the chance. "I take it you're also a supporter of Team Jily?" I whispered into his ear, careful to make sure Lily wouldn't hear.

He grinned before responding under his breath, "Going on five years now. We call it  _Operation Help-James-Grow-the-Fuck-Up_. Operation Lames _,_  for short."

I burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. Everyone around me turned to stare.

"Sorry," I gasped as I collected myself. "Blame Remus. He told a very amusing joke."

Remus snorted and skeptical looks made their way through the group, but before anyone could respond, James's voice echoed throughout the stadium.

"Oi, down here, you lot!" he boomed, wand pointed at his throat. He folded his arms over his chest as he waited for each person to touch ground. "Every position but mine is fair game. I don't care what you played last year, we're having a fair trial. Let's have everyone going out for Seeker here, Chasers over there—"

"I thought they had a practice last Saturday?" I asked no one in particular as I watched James conjure a clipboard and whistle from thin air. If there was one thing I'd learnt about Harry's father since my arrival in this decade, it was that he was damn talented at Transfiguration.

"James prefers to hold at least one practice before trials," explained Remus with a shrug. "He said it helps him get a read on the team's potential, but I think he was just too impatient to wait another week."

"And how many slots is he looking to fill?"

"Three," Peter answered, leaning across his friend. "There's four returning from last year. Hobbs as Keeper, James and Marlene for Chaser, and Sirius as Beater."

I hummed my understanding as I watched James send a group of first years off the pitch.

"Beaters first off!" James shouted, already sounding annoyed. "There's only eight of you, so we're going to keep this shit quick and dirty—"

"As any decent Beater should be," a voice drawled from the back of the crowd. Laughter echoed throughout the pitch, and I didn't need to look down to know who had spoken.

"Yes, thank you, Black," said James dryly, trying to maintain a professional tone, but I could hear the smile in his voice. "Alright, you two start us off." James motioned to two players, who promptly mounted their brooms and took to the air.

Sirius kept to the back chatting with Marlene, broomstick still propped lazily on his shoulder. They seemed to be getting on well. I could tell by the slightly strained look on Marlene's face that all was not forgotten, but she laughed along with Sirius just the same.

"Now I know why you were so keen to be here, Mary," said Lily smugly. Mary was leaning forward in her seat and watching intently as the first set of potential Beaters circled the pitch waiting for James to release the Bludgers. Lily appraised her friend, eyebrows raised. "Jones is looking fit, isn't he?"

"Damn right he is," replied Mary, eyes slightly dreamy but lips turning upward into a smirk.

I leaned over to Remus. "Which one is Jones?"

"Asher Jones. Black bloke in sixth year, broad as a house."

It was obvious which one he meant. Asher Jones was massive, dark muscles rippling as he swung his bat and made contact with a Bludger. The iron ball whizzed halfway across the pitch before changing direction and hurtling back.

"Looks like he'll give Sirius a run for his money," Alice added, watching as Jones sped off.

She was right. Nearly an hour later, James had narrowed it down to Jones and Sirius and had sent them both back into the air to test how well they worked together. He needn't have worried; the Bludgers travelled between them as if they had already coordinated plays. I couldn't help but admire Sirius's impressive Quidditch skills, as well as his rather attractive, er,  _physique_. I mentally cursed our school robes for keeping all of  _that_  hidden. His muscular arms were on full display as he gripped his broom with only his thighs, his back elbow cocking upward as he swung the heavy bat with both arms.

_God, it was like sex on a broomstick._

What can I say? I wasn't lying about my preference for  _really good_ Quidditch players.

James blew his whistle. "Merlin fuck, quit showing off and get your arses back down here!"

Wild cheering erupted from the stands behind me. I should have expected Sirius to have a dedicated fan club.

Sirius and Jones high fived in midair before speeding back to our end of the pitch. Right before reaching the Gryffindor section of the stands, Sirius slowed deliberately and threw a wink in our direction. Lily nudged me repeatedly in the ribs with her elbow.

"Christ, Lily," I grimaced, rubbing my side. Her elbows were surprisingly sharp. "What are you on about?"

"Oh,  _you know,"_  said Lily, green eyes sparkling with undisguised delight. "Who do you think he meant that wink for?'

"I dunno," I replied blithely. "Remus is looking rather fetching today."

"Excuse me," interjected Remus, hand pressed to his chest in mock offense. "I  _always_  look fetching."

"Of course you do, Remus darling," said Lily through laughter.

* * *

"We keep bottled Butterbeer in the cold store beneath the bar. There's a few obscure brews down there too, mostly foreign. The rest of the beer is on tap, wine's over there, and liquor is on the back wall."

"What if someone just wants a water or pumpkin juice?"

Benjy laughed. "On the rare occasion we get that order, we've got these," he replied, pointing to a few nozzles that resembled Muggle soda fountain guns.

"And say someone fancies a mixed drink?" I asked, feeling a little out of my depth.

"Then you'll find me and I'll teach you, of course," Benjy answered. "Now get out there and take care of that lot." He gestured to a group of wizards settling themselves around a table near the back of the pub.

I nodded as I tied a dingy apron around my waist. As I turned to skirt around the edge of the bar, Benjy stopped me.

"Don't forget to smile." He then grimaced awkwardly. "And maybe drop a button or two," he added, motioning to my shirt.

I scowled. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," he repeated without an ounce of humor. He leant forward and lowered his voice. "Sorry, but we need you to charm the pants off them, put them at ease."

"I know," I sighed. I grudgingly undid the top three buttons of my white oxford, revealing a hint of, in my opinion, quite unimpressive cleavage. Only the top edge of my circular golden scar peaked out. I slid the bobble out of my hair for good measure, shaking out my curls.

_If someone had told me a year ago that I would willing comply with such an audacious request, I would have hexed them into a puddle._

But I was a very different witch than the Hermione of a year ago.

"Better?" I asked, batting my eyelashes and giving him the most convincing smile I could muster. I tried to make my smile somewhat coy and flirtatious, but I don't think I quite hit the mark.

"Much," he replied with a reassuring smile.

I took a steadying breath before heading off to wait on the table of wizards. My job on this Sunday evening was not only to help Aberforth out around the pub, but also to assist Benjy in being the eyes and ears of the Order.

If I had to tart myself up to do it, so be it.

* * *

"Nothing necessarily out of the ordinary," I said in response to Aberforth's question. It was a little after two in the morning, and Aberforth, Benjy, and I sat together at a table near the bar of the closed pub. The shades of each window were drawn and only a few candles were lit. I'd cast  _Muffliato_  and an Imperturbable charm on the door, just to be safe. "Goyle met up with a group of wizards I didn't recognize and a particularly rancorous goblin, but that's about it."

"Goyle," Aberforth repeated, setting down his glass of Firewhiskey with a clink. "What'd they talk about?"

I hummed, thinking. "A potion. Sounded illegal, but I didn't catch a name. I was a little distracted by the blonde bloke trying to grab my arse again."

"Merlin fuck," Benjy swore under his breath. "I bloody knew it."

I look a sip of my drink as Aberforth shot Benjy a look. "Am I missing something?" I asked, eyes darting from one to the other.

Aberforth gave a small nod as if granting Benjy permission.

"Recently there's been a rash of murders traced back to a few specific potion ingredients," replied Benjy carefully. "First one was a month ago. Our informant close to the investigation tells us that the Aurors haven't been able to identify the poison, but they're certain the murders weren't caused by the Killing Curse."

"And you think Goyle's involved?" I asked skeptically, swirling my glass of amber liquid. "Because as I recall, that whole family has never been proficient at anything more than elementary Dark Magic. I doubt Goyle could brew a decent Hiccuping Solution, much less a lethal poison."

"We don't think he's doing the brewing," Aberforth replied with a grim chuckle. "Nah, Goyle's just the middleman."

"And that's the problem, innit?" Benjy added. "You-Know-Who always sends out the stupidest of his lot for the dirtiest work. Makes it harder for us to find the source."

I frowned, looking to Aberforth. "You-Know-Who is already a thing?"

"'Course it is, girlie. Fear of the name, as my brother says."

I rolled my eyes. Benjy looked at both of us in confusion.

"Oh, sorry," I added, covering quickly. "I've been in the States, you know."

"Right," said Benjy, looking mollified but his eyebrows never unfurrowed.

* * *

"Is it weird?" asked Benjy as he escorted me back to the gates of Hogwarts. I raised my eyebrows in question. "Being a member of—" he glanced around the deserted lane and lowered his voice. "The  _Organization_  while still a student?"

"Not really," I replied. "I haven't done much yet, have I? But the people I hang around with at school are more than willing to join up. I imagine they'll be first in line once they finish school."

"Black, you mean?"

"Him and his friends," I answered with a shrug. "You'll never meet a more dedicated bunch."

He released a hum that sounded a bit unconvinced.

"I'm serious," I said as I pushed open one of the heavy iron gates leading to the grounds. "Sirius and his friends—well, I guess you could say they're my friends now, too. They're the sort of people we need."

"If you say so," Benjy replied. He gave me a brief hug. "You were brilliant tonight. Be careful getting back to your dormitory, okay? See you soon."

* * *

The next week was surprisingly uneventful. Sirius or Remus had evidently made an effort to convince James of my innocence because there was a noticeable decrease in the amount of dirty looks thrown in my direction. James still seemed a bit wary of me, though. More than once I caught him studying me across the common room, his expression unreadable.

Late Tuesday evening, the night of the new moon, I met Severus in a rarely used dungeon to brew the first phase of Veritaserum. It was a shockingly dull event. Despite my many attempts at small talk, Severus spoke very little unless it pertained to the task at hand. As I decanted our product into an opaque glass bottle, he complimented my brewing abilities before sweeping out of the room, leaving me alone to clear up our supplies.

I muttered darkly to myself as I stowed the potion-filled bottle in the Potion Master's storage cupboard. What had I done to warrant such cool indifference from Severus? I thought we had been getting on just fine. Well, even if he decided to continue this cold shoulder treatment in class, I refused to tolerate it when we met on the night of the full moon for the second phase of our potion.

_The full moon._

_A potion on the full moon—_

An absolutely brilliant idea struck me like a bolt of lightning.

_How had I not thought of it sooner?_

I cast a Disillusionment charm on myself and departed the dungeons in such a rush that the tell-tale icy sensation was still trickling down my spine when I reached the stairs.

I needed to consult my old notes, definitely track down the empirical study published by Damocles Belby in  _The Practical Potioneer,_ and maybe even verify a few key concepts in Phyllida Spore's comprehensive review of aconite for good measure _._  I knew Belby wouldn't finish perfecting the final version until sometime in late 1978, but hopefully my previous research would be sufficient enough to compensate. I had never attempted to brew such a dangerous and complex potion before, but maybe with enough time and practice—

_For Remus—_

But there was also the issue of ingredients. Many were terribly expensive, and at present I only had a handful of Galleons to my name. Maybe Uncle Albus could help? But he would surely want to know why I needed access to such a toxic plant. I doubt he would approve—

_For Remus—_

I stopped abruptly, blinking rapidly as I took in my surroundings. I was staring at a blank stretch of stone wall on the seventh floor.

_The Room of Requirement._

Everyone knows that food is the first of the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration… but did that include other consumables such as potion ingredients?

There was only one way to find out.

_For Remus—_

I stared straight ahead determinedly as I began to pace, turning sharply on my heel at the edge of the window and then back again once I reached the massive vase.

_I need somewhere to brew the Wolfsbane Potion… A proper potions laboratory… I need access to all of the necessary supplies and ingredients to brew the Wolfsbane Potion…_

* * *

I sent Evie off with letters addressed to Molly and Fabian on Wednesday. Though I felt a bit awkward and unsure of how they would be received, I couldn't help myself. Molly had said to keep in touch, and despite Gideon's reassurances, I just  _needed_  to know how Fabian was holding up for myself.

Two days later, I received owls from them both. Molly's contained a precious photo of Bill, Charlie, and Percy helping her in the garden. Percy was sitting in the center of a large patchwork quilt, thumb in his mouth, with Bill and Charlie on either side of him, faces smeared with dirt and grinning up at the camera. A tiny gnome darted across the background of the scene. Fabian whinged about how much he loathed desk duty for the majority of his letter, but I smiled at the photo he included of his crup puppy named Isla snuggled up beside a tiny kitten that I suspected was half-Kneazle, just like Crookshanks.

I found myself spending a surprising amount of time with the Marauders. It had been quite a shock the first time I looked up from my Charms textbook during morning break to find myself sandwiched between Remus and Sirius on the courtyard bench, but I soon came to expect the company of all four wizards during breaks and meals in the Great Hall. Lily often joined me, almost always sitting next to or across from James. I actually began to grow concerned that I could be negatively altering the timeline. How had James and Lily's relationship developed on the First Strand of Time? How was my presence influencing them?

It was a troubling thought that I wouldn't allow myself to dwell on.

I met Remus in the library almost nightly to revise, occasionally joined by a various combination of my dorm mates and the Marauders. My time spent with Remus was nearly as refreshing as an Invigoration Draught. I was thrilled to find that our conversations weren't limited to schoolwork. I felt  _comfortable_  with him, which resulted in many hastily censored stories of my previous life spilling out without a second thought. Remus responded in kind, and Madam Pince nearly booted us from the library as I rolled with laughter over a particularly hilarious prank involving Dumbledore's hat.

It wasn't until Saturday evening that something exciting happened. I was curled in my favorite armchair in front of the common room fire, surrounded by the Marauders and Alice, my ancient copy of  _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_  open in my lap. I wasn't really reading it; I was content just running my fingers along each yellowed page.

Remus was sitting on the sofa across from me, nose buried in a Muggle novel. I enjoyed watching his dark green eyes soak up each word, his scarred face more relaxed than I'd ever seen it in my future. Peter was sharing a large bar of Honeydukes chocolate with Alice as she happily answered questions about Frank's first year at the Auror Academy. James had just returned from meeting Delia and had joined Sirius on the common room floor. They were both sprawled on their backs, side by side in front of the fire, eyes closed. They looked so much like brothers in that moment that it was a bit disconcerting.

"Whatcha reading, Hermione?" James asked, cracking open one eye to look up at me.

"Just a book of old runes," I replied evasively. "A gift from a friend."

Sirius's forehead wrinkled, but he didn't open his eyes.

"So you're translating them?" James continued.

"Oh no, I finished that ages ago—"

I was saved from having to explain by a weedy looking boy that couldn't be more than a third year.

"Hermione D-dumbledore?" he stuttered, staring at me with wide eyes.

"It's Hermione _Granger,"_ I said with a sigh. "Just Granger."

I may use my new surname to my advantage when necessary, but I just couldn't allow myself to give up Granger for good.

"Er, yes," said the boy. "I was told to give you this." He passed me a tightly furled scroll of parchment with shaking hands.

"Thank you!" I called after the boy as he turned and scarpered back out of the portrait hole.

"Who's that from?" James asked as I broke the wax seal and unrolled the parchment.

* * *

_H,_

_Meet in my office at half eight. Tonight's the night to introduce you to the resistance._

_Your partner,  
G_

* * *

Besides seeing him in Defense lessons, I hadn't heard from Gideon all week. We hadn't met for dueling practice as promised, but I'd decided not to question it. I was sure he had his reasons.

I checked my watch.

_Twenty past eight._

"I've got to go," I muttered, ignoring James's question and shoving my book back into my bag. "I'll see you lot later."

I hurried out of the portrait hole without a second thought. Once in the corridor, I extracted my beaded handbag from the bottom of my school bag; I didn't need the inconvenience of lugging a massive bag of books around all evening. After stuffing my entire school bag into the smaller one, I lengthened the strap and slung it across my body. It hit my hip with a loud  _thump._ Though the delicate-looking bag sounded quite heavy, it felt light as air.

I had cast my charms well.

I all but sprinted to Gideon's office, barreling through the door without knocking. He looked up as I stood breathlessly in front of his desk. He had been scribbling a few notes onto the top page of a sheaf of parchment. There was a splotch of blue ink staining the ginger hairs of his stubbled cheek.

"Merlin, I didn't mean for you to run," he said through laughter, returning an elegant eagle feather quill to the stand next to the inkwell on his desk.

I felt my face grow hot. "I'm just excited," I replied defensively.

"Why? Shouldn't this be old hat for you?"

I shuffled my feet guiltily. "Er—"

Gideon raised his eyebrows.

"Not exactly…"

"What do you mean?"

"I was only fifteen when the Order reformed, wasn't I? I was stuck on the periphery. Mrs. Weasley wouldn't allow us to stay for meetings. By the time I was of age, I had—" I broke off, biting my lip. "Well, I had more important matters to attend to."

"More important than the Order?"

"Far more important," I replied, voice void of emotion.

He cocked his head to the side in question, willing me to go on.

But I wasn't planning to.

"Don't we have somewhere to be?" I said with finality.

"Of course," he replied as he pushed back his chair, seeming to take the hint. He strode to the stone fireplace along the rear wall and retrieved a pot from the mantle that resembled my mum's old makeup jar. "You go first," he said, holding out the jar of Floo powder. "I'll be right behind you."

"Wait, why?" I asked as I joined him in front of the fireplace.

"It's polite," he answered simply. I reached out to take a pinch of glittering powder, but he pulled the jar away suddenly, eyes wide as if a realization had just hit him. "Wait, Mrs. Weasley, you said?"

"Molly, of course. We've already been through this, Gid. She was like a mum to me." I paused for a moment. "She  _was_  a mum to me," I added quietly.

His smiled, his blue eyes sparkling. "I bet she was incredible at it, wasn't she?"

I grinned back at him. "The absolute best. A bit over protective, though."

"Of course she was," he said, shaking his head knowingly.

"So are we going or not?"

"Oh, right," he replied. "Make sure you speak clearly. I don't exactly fancy having to track you down."

I rolled my eyes at his tease. "I know how to use the Floo Network, you prat. What's my destination?"

"The Boneyard."

"Excuse me?" I asked, thinking I'd misheard. "The  _what?"_

"The Boneyard," he repeated, holding back a laugh. "You'll understand when we get there."

I huffed at him, but did as I was told. I took a pinch of Floo Powder from the jar in his hand and tossed it into the fire. It roared emerald green.

"The Boneyard!" I shouted before stepping into the flames and spinning away.

I stumbled out of the fireplace, coughing and dusting soot from my skirt before looking up. I had arrived in an ornate sitting room. From what I could tell, the room was rather spacious and absolutely packed with witches and wizards. Everyone there was facing the fireplace, looking at me expectantly. I gulped audibly.

"There you are, lassie," someone growled. Before I could say a word, Moody had thrown an arm over my shoulder and was leading me off to the side. "Nobody needs that many eyes on 'em," he said under his breath as we traveled through the crowd.

"That's for sure," I said gratefully once we'd reached the side of the room.

"Aye, sooner rather than later, didn't I say?" said Moody with a smirk. "Your dad'll be here in a bit."

"Rough week?" I asked, nodding to a fresh gash stretching from the middle of his forehead to the angle of his right jaw.

Moody chuckled. "No worse than usual."

"Hermione?" Gideon shouted, sounding panicked.

"Over here, Gid!" I called back, standing on tiptoe and searching over the crowd for a hint of red.

"Sweet Merlin, I was sure I'd lost you in the Floo," he said after elbowing his way over to us. "You trying to give me heart failure, Moody?"

Moody laughed again.

* * *

I spent the next quarter of an hour being introduced to various members of the Order. Some I recognized, but many were new to me. Hestia Jones smiled warmly as she clung to the arm of her husband, who greeted me with the name Giles. He looked very much like Asher Jones, and when I inquired, he revealed that Asher was indeed his younger brother.

Benjy whisked me away quickly to introduce me to his two best friends from school—Pierce Whittle and Emmeline Vance. Despite the  _call me Emmy_ that followed her introduction, this young version of Emmeline was still similar to the stately witch I remembered—a witch I had spent quite a few hours with at the kitchen table of Grimmauld Place. A witch who had been kind enough to help me perfect my Patronus over the Christmas holiday with the promise of ' _I won't tell if you won't'._  A witch who had ultimately been murdered by Death Eaters. Her long chestnut colored plait swung over her shoulder as she shook my hand, her slightly protuberant eyes sparkling with the smile on her lips. Pierce Whittle was a bearded bloke with dark hair and kind brown eyes. I noticed the many looks he shot at Emmeline, but she seemed completely oblivious.

Fabian found us soon after. He hugged me tightly, even before greeting his brother. "My favorite witch," he said through a toothy grin. "How's Hogwarts treating you?"

"Surprisingly dull," I replied. "How's Isla?"

"Adorably destructive," he answered. "I'm down to my last pair of work boots. My friend is trying to convince me to send her to training school at the Magical Menagerie, but who has time for that sort of thing?"

"And how is Elise's kitten? Half kneazle, isn't it?" I inquired with a sly smile.

"Oh, Ari is fine—hang on." He stopped, forehead furrowed. "How'd you know it was her kitten? Have you even met Elise?"

"Lucky guess?" I replied, sharing a smirk with Gideon, who shook his head in a  _'thanks for that, Hermione'_  sort of way. Fabian caught on quickly.

"Can't keep your bloody trap shut, can you?" Fabian said to his brother with a sigh.

"She was in the waiting room—" Gideon began.

"Oh, come off it," I cut in, rolling my eyes. "It's not like you can't trust me, right?" I raised my eyebrows significantly.

"Good point," Fabian concurred.

"So when do I get to meet her properly?" I asked.

"Tonight, I hope," replied Fabian, trying but failing to hide his smile.

"The McKinnons finally caved?" said Gideon, eyes wide with surprise.

"Reluctantly," said Fabian. "I think Dumbledore had a word with them. Only Ellie, though. Blair wasn't exactly willing, and the other two are still at Hogwarts."

"Excellent. We've been struggling without anyone in Elise's department since we lost Griffis. A few essential foreign contacts—"

As Gideon and Fabian continued their discussion, I took a moment to survey the room. Mundungus Fletcher skulked alone in a dark corner, sipping from a dented hip flask. I caught Hagrid's eye over the head of a man with thick straw-colored hair, who I could only assume to be Sturgis Podmore. Hagrid nearly knocked over a very expensive looking vase as he waved at me, and I grinned as I returned his greeting. Aberforth stood next to Arabella Figg on the outskirts of a large group, looking terribly bored and grunting whenever the conversation called for a response.

I decided to play my role properly. My father needed rescuing.

"I'll be back in a bit," I said over my shoulder as I squeezed my way through the crowd.

"Dad," I said, coming up behind him and slipping my arm into his. He started and looked down at me in surprise. I pulled him away before he could respond. "You looked bored stiff," I whispered once we were on our own. "Well, stiffer than usual."

"Stiff, you say?" he snorted as he swiped up two bottles of Butterbeer from a nearby table of drinks. He passed me one before popping both tops with a flick of his wand. "You wouldn't say that if you caught me after a few Firewhiskeys. How'd you think you got here, girlie?"

He gave me a wink and jerked his head to the right. A dark-haired man who looked to be in his late thirties was approaching us. His vibrant turquoise robes set him apart from the crowd. Following Aberforth's lead, I wrinkled my nose in distaste.

"Blimey, Dad," I said, shaking my head. "There are just some things a girl doesn't need to know."

"Too right you are, little witch!" said the man grandly as he reached us. "Hermione Granger, I presume?" I nodded. "I've been absolutely  _dying_  to meet you! Edgar Bones." He gave a little bow before grasping my proffered hand and shaking it exaggeratedly. He held his arms out widely, gesturing to the room at large. "Welcome to my home. Mi casa es su casa, as they say."

"Oh," I breathed. "The  _Boneyard._  I get it now."

"Told ya," said Gideon, appearing beside me with a smirk on his face.

"Gideon, my tasty little autumn squash! Where have you been hiding since last meeting?" Edgar cried as he gathered Gideon in a hug. Aberforth barely managed to turn his laugh into a hasty cough.

Gideon smiled indulgently as he clapped Edgar on the back. "Hogwarts, of course. The Headmaster keeps us busy."

"Tosh. You must come round for tea Sunday next. I know my sister would be absolutely  _thrilled_  if you joined us."

Gideon rolled his eyes. "I see Kirsten at least once a week at the office, Ed. No need for elaborate schemes to set us up."

Edgar tutted dismissively, but Gideon was saved by the magnified voice of Albus Dumbledore. "If you will all find a seat, the meeting will begin shortly."

"My my, is it that time already?" gasped Edgar before turning on his heel and rushing to help set up chairs in a semicircle facing the fireplace.

I followed Gideon and took a seat on the second row between him and Fabian. Fabian was smiling across the room, eyes fixed on a pretty blonde witch—Elise McKinnon. She was sitting next to an older couple that I assumed were her parents. She looked much more put together than the last time I saw her. She was dressed in a knee-length skirt and neat blouse, not a single curl out of place. She looked a bit nervous, but seemed to take comfort in the reassuring smile Fabian was still giving her.

"So, tasty little autumn squash?" I whispered into Gideon's ear, biting my lip to hold back a laugh.

"Fucking Edgar," he said, rolling his eyes but smiling fondly. "He gets more creative every time I see him. He may be the biggest poof this side of the Thames, but don't let that fool you. He could out-duel half the Auror department without breaking a sweat. He's one of the best wizards we've got."

"So is he hitting on you or does he want you to date his sister?" I asked, eyebrows raised.

Gideon laughed. "No, he just finds great pleasure in winding me up. Ed's been with Thatcher for years. They've just adopted a little girl, actually. Lila. Thatch should be around somewhere with her." He lowered his voice. "She's a Muggle-born that displayed magic too soon. Her mother didn't know what to make of her, so she gave her up. Religious sort of woman, thought she was possessed."

I frowned, understanding more than Gideon knew. When I was five years old, I'd made my Nan's ruby necklace fly right off her throat and into my hand, just after Nan had scolded me, saying her jewelry was far too precious for a child to wear. My parents were baffled, but Nan was convinced that I was being influenced by a demon. It was almost three years before she would allow me to visit again.

"The Ministry caught wind of it and his sister Amelia was able to help send the adoption through smoothly," Gideon continued.

"How many sisters does Edgar have?"

"Just the two. Amelia and Kirsten. Amelia is pretty high up in the DMLE and Kirsten runs an Apothecary in Diagon Alley. They're the exclusive potion provider for the Auror Department, so she's there twice a week, at least. I think he's got a brother too, but I don't know much about him."

Gideon fell silent as Dumbledore rose from his chair and stood in front of the fireplace, facing the crowd.

"Thank you for joining us tonight. We have all put ourselves at great risk by being here, but the Order of the Phoenix is grateful for your service."

* * *

_if you had not have fallen  
_ _then I would not have found you_  
_angel flying too close to the ground_  
_and I patched up your broken wing and hung around a while_  
_trying to keep your spirits up and your fever down_  
Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground – Willie Nelson

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): I don't have much to say about this chapter except to explain why Hermione's thoughts seem so disjointed after she remembers the Wolfsbane Potion. Throughout the series, there are moments where a realization strikes her and she rushes off with little more than a half-assed explanation. I usually don't explain the opening quote, but this one was a bit more ambiguous.
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking around and reading even though my updates can be a bit slow at times. Please take a moment to leave a comment and let me know what you think!
> 
> :) liz


	21. One of Us

* * *

**Chapter 21: One of Us**

* * *

Mary Lou: Are you a seeker? A seeker after truth?  
Newt: I'm more of a chaser, really.  
_—Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them: The Original Screenplay,_  J.K. Rowling

* * *

I never thought I would actually forget my own birthday.

To be fair, it wasn't  _really_  my birthday. Time travel can do funny things to magical physiology, right down to the molecular level. My past habitual Time Turner use, combined with my most recent unanticipated, but nonetheless intense time jump, made it impossible to calculate my precise age. I was honestly shocked that my body hadn't already disintegrated into dust.

I awoke on the morning of the nineteenth of September to Lily shaking my arm.

"Hermione?"

I moaned and rolled over, swatting her hand away and yanking my blanket higher over my head.

"Hermione!" she repeated, this time more urgently.

This got my attention. I shot up in bed, scrambling beneath my pillow for my wand. It was in my hand in a flash, my body at full alert and eyes darting around the room.

"Stand down, soldier," said Lily unflinchingly, rolling her eyes.

Apparently I'd become rather predictable. I lowered my wand and slumped against my headboard groggily. Lily was perched on the edge of my bed, staring down at me with her lips pursed. She was wrapped in a fuchsia dressing gown that clashed brilliantly with her dark red hair.

"Good morning to you too, Lils," I said grumpily. I glanced out the window—still dark. The sun hadn't even risen yet. "What time is it?"

"Like, half six or so," she replied dismissively.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Then why in Merlin's name am I awake?"

She ignored the question. "Do you mind explaining this?" she asked as if reprimanding a second year for using magic in the corridors. She gestured to the foot of my bed, and I gaped openly at the small pile of presents there.

_Oh._

"Er, what's today's date?" I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"The nineteenth."

"Well," I said, rising to sit on my heels and reaching for the topmost gift. There seemed to only be three. "I guess it's my birthday."

"And you didn't care to mention it?" she exclaimed, leaping to her feet, hands immediately flying to her hips.

"Didn't think it was all that big of a deal, honestly," I replied as I began to tear the paper wrappings from the parcel in my hands.

Birthdays had always been a rather low-key affair for me. I usually celebrated with my parents before the start of term, and it had taken Ron and Harry four years to even remember the date. My fourteenth birthday was particularly disappointing. The only  _'Happy Birthday'_  greetings I received in my third year were from Ginny and Nearly-Headless Nick, who, despite the fact that he had resided at Hogwarts for over five hundred years, never forgot the birthday of a Gryffindor student.

"Of course it's a big deal!" Lily said incredulously, staring at me as if I were mad. She sank onto the bed beside me and placed a hand on my mine, halting my progress. "You're one of us now, Hermione. We need to know these things."

"Us?" I repeated, blinking at her.

She looked a bit taken aback. "I mean, yeah. Us. All of us. You haven't been here long, but you just sort of…" She shrugged. "Well, you just sort of fit."

It was too early in the morning for all of these feelings. I couldn't find the words to respond to her, so instead I chose to finish opening the gift.

I smiled as I tore away the remainder of the wrappings. It was a leather bound copy of  _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland._ I let it fall open in my lap, inhaling the lovely scent of a brand new book, and found a folded bit of parchment tucked behind the front cover.

* * *

_"But it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then."  
Happy Birthday, my dear niece._

_Yours sincerely,  
Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. Though against your nature, sometimes it is okay to take a peek at the ending._

* * *

"A book? I just knew you were my soulmate," said Lily with a grin. "What is it?" I held it out for her to see. "Oh my goodness, this was one of my favorite books as a child!"

"Mine too," I replied with a smile. "I would beg my mum to read from it every night before bed."

"Who's it from?" she asked.

"Uncle Albus." I read the note aloud to her. "What do you think he means by 'peek at the ending'?"

"Hmm…" She scrunched up her freckled nose as she thought, then suddenly snatched the book from my hands and opened to the back cover. "Ah-ha!" she said triumphantly as another slip of parchment fluttered out.

"Well that was a bit more literal than I would have expected from him," I said as I stretched to retrieve it.

Lily laughed in agreement.

"Woah," I breathed.  _"I, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School, hereby grant Hermione Granger permission to utilize the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library for the remainder of the school year."_

"You lucky cow," said Lily, eyes wide with shock and envy. "Who knew that Dumbledore was such a fantastic gift-giver?"

"I know, right?"

"Go on then, open another!" she said, eyes shining with anticipation as if it were her own birthday.

Lily passed me the larger of the two remaining gifts. "This has got to be another book," she said knowingly.

It was. I tore away the wrappings to find a copy of  _Protection Charm Your Mind: A Practical Guide to Counter Legilimency._  The card only held the two words:  _Constant vigilance!_

"It's got to be from Moody," I mused aloud with a chuckle.

"Moody?" Lily repeated, eyebrows raised. "As in the Auror?"

"Yeah, he's good friends with Uncle Albus," I replied. "He must have told Moody about my birthday. Must have known I wouldn't expect many gifts."

"Sounds like something he'd do," said Lily.

I was touched by Dumbledore's forethought. I'd only mentioned my birthday to him once in passing, after all.

"Last one," said Lily, handing me the final parcel. It was small, no larger than a deck of cards.

As I tore away the brown-paper wrappings, a necklace slid out onto my lap. I stared down at it, dumbstruck.

"Bloody hell," Lily breathed.

I looped my finger around the long golden chain, holding it up for us both to examine. It was an oval locket of delicate gold filigree. A single ruby sparkled between the petals of the rose set in the center. I ran my thumbnail along the seam to unclasp it. A folded scrap of yellowed parchment was tucked inside. 

* * *

_Hermione,_

_My father had this made for my sister right after she was born. It was meant to be a gift for her eleventh birthday. He was never able to give it to her.  
Happy birthday._

_Your father,  
Aberforth_

* * *

"Well?" Lily asked.

"It's from my father," I replied softly, tears welling in the corners of my eyes. "Aberforth," I clarified, remembering that Lily knew of my 'adoption'.

"It's absolutely stunning," Lily said, staring at it in awe.

"It's a family heirloom. I have no idea why he'd give it to me…"

"I think he's trying to tell you something," said Lily after a moment of thought. "The same thing I've been trying to tell you. That you belong here."

I couldn't stop the tears from falling as I gathered my hair and Lily fastened the chain around my neck.

* * *

"Don't you dare tell anyone," I whispered to Lily as we crossed the Entrance Hall on our way to breakfast.

Lily turned to me with wide eyes. "Whatever do you mean, Hermione?" she said with sickly-sweet innocence.

I sighed. In moments like these she reminded me painfully of Ginny.

"You know, that today is…" I glanced around as we entered the Great Hall. All of our friends were already seated at the Gryffindor table. I lowered my voice to a whisper anyway. "My  _birthday."_

Remus froze with his cup of tea halfway from his mouth and jerked his head in our direction. If I wasn't mistaken, he'd also snorted a bit of tea from his nose.

I groaned, smacking my forehead with the heel of my hand in exasperation.

_Bloody werewolf hearing._

Maybe I could trust him to keep it to himself?

Doubtful. He was a Marauder for a reason.

"But  _why?"_  Lily whined as we slid onto the open bench next to Remus. He was grinning broadly at me.

"Because I don't want to make a big deal of it," I replied with a shrug as I poured myself a cup of coffee. Remus's smile faltered.

"A big deal of what?" interjected James. He was sitting opposite of me, eyeing both Lily and me with curiosity.

Lily opened her mouth to respond, so I did the only thing I could think of to stop her: I kicked her beneath the table—or, at least, attempted to. Lily's words were drowned out by a loud yelp from the person sitting across from Lily.

"Whoops! Sorry, Sirius," I said with an apologetic smile as Sirius scowled and reached down to rub his smarting shin. "I was aiming for Lily."

"Thanks for the save, Black!" said Lily brightly. "Might want to keep your legs on your side of the table, though."

The entire section of seventh year Gryffindors dissolved into laughter as Sirius rolled his eyes and retorted, "I can't help it if I have long legs, Tiger Lily!"

"Tiger Lily?" Lily snorted. "That's a new one."

"I like it!" I added, grateful for the change in conversation. "I always did love Peter Pan."

"Peter who, now?" piped up Peter from the other side of Remus.

"The boy who wouldn't grow up," I replied without looking up, focused on buttering my scone.

"It's a Muggle play," Remus explained kindly to the group.

"And children's film," Mary added. "One of my favorite Disney classics."

"How'd you know that, Remus?" I asked in surprise.

"My mum's a Muggle," he answered with a shrug.

_How did I not already know that?_

I frowned. Maybe I didn't know Remus as well as I thought I did.

"The boy who wouldn't grow up, eh?" said James as he nudged Sirius with his elbow. "Sounds like Padfoot to me."

Sirius shot James a rude hand gesture. Everyone laughed.

Well, everyone except me.

I blinked rapidly, James's words repeating over and over inside my head, taking on an entirely new meaning.

_The boy who wouldn't grow up._

The bottom seemed to drop out of my stomach and my mouth went dry. My hands balled into fists in my lap, my fingernails digging painfully into the skin of my palms.

He had no idea how accurate that statement was, for both Sirius and himself.

Only moments ago I had been worried about them knowing about my  _birthday._ How silly that seemed now. What did insignificant things like birthdays matter when we were at war?

_When I had friends to save?_

I downed the last of my still warm coffee in one gulp and leapt to my feet.

"Where's the fire?" asked Sirius, one eyebrow cocked as I hoisted my school bag onto my shoulder and turned to leave.

_Fire._

_...Fiendfyre._

It was time for something I should have done weeks ago.

I sprinted out of the Great Hall without replying. As I reached the door of the Great Hall, I heard Sirius say, "More mood swings than a Hippogriff, that one, I swear."

* * *

"Where the hell is the damned thing?" I shouted in exasperation. My words rebounded upon me as my voice echoed throughout the vast room. I'd been searching the Room of Hidden Things for hours and yet the diadem was still nowhere to be found. Losing my patience completely, I ran forward and kicked a busted trunk in frustration.

"Stupid, stupid," I groaned as I hopped on one foot, almost certain I'd broken a toe. I was useless when it came to healing bones. How was I going to explain such a ridiculous injury to Pomfrey? I slumped to the ground, swearing under my breath as I slipped off my shoe and sock.

I sucked in a sharp breath as I gingerly bent the toes of my right foot.

Okay, not broken, likely just bruised.

_Lovely._

I sighed and sprawled out on my back, feeling utterly defeated. I gazed up at the vaulted ceiling, tapping my fingers against the stone floor as I thought.

How was anyone supposed to find anything is this labyrinth of a room?

' _Oh, Hermione, you're meant to be the clever one,'_ the voice of Tom Riddle whispered inside my head. _'That's the whole idea.'_

I couldn't deny that Tom had a point. Maybe I should just give today up as a bad job and try again tomorrow? I checked my watch. It was already twenty minutes into the lunch hour.

Great, I'd skived off both Ancient Runes  _and_  Potions.

I sat up slowly and began to pull on my sock, wincing as my toe throbbed angrily.

_Yep, try again tomorrow._

* * *

"What happened at breakfast?" James asked conversationally as we walked across the grounds to Herbology after lunch.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "I forgot to finish my Herbology essay."

He raised his eyebrows. "Which made you miss all of your morning classes?"

"It was a tough one," I replied. We had fallen behind from everyone else. I needed to end this conversation and catch up with the group.

James snorted skeptically. "Right, because an essay on the healing properties of Dittany is a real head-scratcher."

I grimaced. James was proving to be quite the stubborn bloke.

Before I could register what was happening, James was pulling me by the arm.

"Hey!" I yelped as he dragged me along behind him until we were alone behind greenhouse one.

"What the fuck, James?" I asked angrily as I un-snagged the hem of my robes from a bramble. We were facing one another, both of us tense.

"Where'd you run off to on Saturday night?" asked James, hazel eyes hard and determined.

I exhaled sharply through my nose and groaned internally.

"To help Dad out around the pub," I replied with a shrug.

"Rubbish," he shot back. "Because if you had, you would have told us like you did on Sunday."

_Damn him and his logic._

"And why exactly is it any of your business how I spend my time?" I asked, taking a step back from him, hands on my hips defiantly.

"Don't give me the runaround, Granger," James sniffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm not in the mood for bullshit."

It was odd to see someone who looked so much like Harry glowering down at me with such malice. This, more than anything, had my blood absolutely  _boiling_  by this point.

_Who did he think he was?_

Why had he deemed me so untrustworthy?

' _Because you are, little Ottie,'_ Tom Riddle purred inside my head. I suppressed my delusion with a hasty ' _Fuck you, Tom,'_ which made him chuckle with satisfaction.

James opened his mouth to continue, but I interrupted him. "Just leave it, James. It's none of your business where I go or what I do."

"It's my business when it involves my mates!" he roared, nostrils flaring as his temper got the best of him. I shrank back slightly, but was determined to stand my ground.

"Just say what you actually mean," I retorted sourly. "Because you already  _know_  who the note was from. You know that I went to Gideon's office first." His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oh come off it, I've been here less than a month and even I know that you have your ways. You want to know where I went after I disappeared from your precious little map."

"How in Merlin's saggy—" James began, but I held up my hand.

"Sirius didn't tell me, if that's what you're thinking," I clarified, cursing myself for letting my own temper take control. "You lot aren't as secretive as you think you are," I lied. He began to interrupt again, but I actually stamped my foot in frustration this time. "Damn it, James! Have you even stopped to consider  _why_  I didn't tell you?"

"Why you didn't?" he repeated, his hand actually twitching toward his wand. "It's obvious, innit? You're hiding something, Granger, and I know it's nothing good."

_Hiding something._

I groaned.

"Fucking hell, are you going to make me tell you? Right here behind the greenhouses? Where anyone could hear?" His jaw dropped. "Because I'll tell you  _all_  about where I went that night." I drew myself up to my fullest height. "But just so you know, it would be a massive breach of security.  _For our side."_

He grew rigid at this statement. "Our side?" he repeated in a whisper. "Do you mean you're a member of the Or–"

I leapt forward, whipping my wand smoothly from the pocket of my robes. Before he could react, my hand was covering his mouth and the tip of my wand was pressing hard against his throat.

"Don't you  _dare_ finish that sentence!" I hissed into his ear as James's eyes widened in shock. "Are you bloody mental? You can't just  _say_  things like that!"

He mumbled something against my hand. I cocked an eyebrow. "Can I trust you to not say stupid shit if I remove my hand?"

He nodded. He hadn't drawn his own wand, after all, so he must have realized how serious the situation was.

"Smart man," I said, patting his cheek before withdrawing my hand. I brought my wand arm back to my side, but I didn't step back. I was doing my best to channel Harry, to be as authoritative and intimidating as possible.

"So," he whispered, ducking his head slightly, "are you?"

"What makes you think I'll even answer that question?" I scoffed.

"Because, I think you know why I'm asking," he answered, his eyes once again narrowed with determination. "I want to join. We all do."

"First of all, I can neither confirm nor deny my involvement." He rolled his eyes again. "Secondly, I can't help you," I continued flatly, but I leaned forward to add in little more than a breath, "at least not until you've finished school."

His eyes lit up. "Once we've finished school?" he repeated.

I nodded mutely.

"But why are you allowed?" he added in something of a huff.

His petulant attitude reminded me that he was still a child.

_He wasn't ready._

"Because—" I wrinkled my nose, thinking. "Well, you've seen me duel," I answered with a shrug. "Besides, I'm quite a bit older than you."

"What? You're not seventeen?"

"Nope. I started Ilvermorny a bit late," I lied breezily. "My mum wasn't too keen on magic at first." I chewed at my bottom lip, debating my next statement. "And James?" He inclined his head slightly. "I promise you, I would  _never_  do anything to hurt you or your mates. Ever."

James looked startled at my sincerity. He pushed his glasses up his nose and stared down at me as if deciding whether to believe me or not.

"Fine, you're off the hook," he said finally.

I sighed with relief.

As we turned to walk together toward greenhouse four for class, I heard him mutter, "For now."

* * *

"Occamy egg shells? Yeh can' be serious, Hermione."

Hagrid appraised me with his beetle black eyes as I brought the bucket-sized mug to my lips and took a slow sip of overly-strong tea. I cleared my throat as I lowered it.

"They're very rare, I know," I replied steadily, "but I'm working on an experimental potion for Professor Slughorn, and I can't see any way to complete the assignment without them." I gave him my most brilliant smile. "Hagrid, if there's anyone who can get them, it's you. Uncle Al has told me all about your passion for magical creatures."

Hagrid frowned, but I could tell that I'd flattered him. He tapped his massive fingers against the scrubbed wooden table. He was considering it.

"Well," Hagrid began slowly. I smiled brightly, urging him on. "I migh' know someone who has 'em. Or at least can get 'em."

"Who?" I asked eagerly.

"Dead lucky he's still in the village," Hagrid replied. "He and Tina rarely stay anywhere long. I can talk ter 'im for yeh. Tell 'im yer int'rested."

"But  _who,_  Hagrid?"

From the name, one might think that the most vital ingredient of the Wolfsbane Potion would be, well,  _Wolfsbane_.

But acquiring a bundle of aconite was nothing compared to procuring Occamy shells.

Which were composed of pure  _silver._

"Scamander. Newt Scamander."

I choked on my tea.

* * *

I stayed at Hagrid's until nearly curfew, chatting about my start of term and helping him care after an orphaned newborn unicorn.

"Poor thing got caught' during the birthin'," Hagrid had explained sadly. "I found 'em in time to save the foal, but not the mum."

I smiled as I walked up the path leading back to the castle. The foal had been a tiny little thing, pure gold and timid as hell. Foals tend to be more accepting of males than mature unicorns, but Hagrid had been having difficulties with this particular one. With a little encouragement from Hagrid, I'd approached the colt slowly, slices of crisp green apple held in my outstretched palm. I'd knelt in the middle of the paddock, and after a few minutes, the little guy had finally approached me apprehensively and nibbled at the edges of the apple slices. Before I knew it, the little unicorn had thrown himself into my arms and was nuzzling into my neck.

"I knew it!" Hagrid had said over my giggles as I stroked the colt's soft golden mane. "Little fella jus' needed a cuddle!" He'd then smiled down warmly at me. "Thought this'd be a nice birthday treat for yeh."

I'd beamed at him so broadly my cheeks hurt.

As I rounded the corner, I noticed that the Quidditch pitch was still fully lit. Strange, I thought as I checked my watch. Practices usually ended at least an hour before curfew. Curiosity getting the better of me, I cut across the grass to the gate leading to the pitch.

It was nearly silent except for a faint whizzing sound. I closed the gate behind me and leaned back against it as I looked up in search of the mystery Quidditch player. For a moment, I thought it was Sirius, but it didn't take long to spot the differences. For one, there were no Bludgers, just a sole wizard on a broomstick racing across the pitch in pursuit of a Snitch, though from this distance the small golden ball was lost in the night. Though the wizard's raven hair was long, it was shorter than Sirius's and not quite long enough to be tied back. He was also of a slighter build, ideal for a Seeker.

It was fascinating to watch Regulus fly. He was near the same skill level as Harry and possibly even Victor. I slowly made my way to the line of benches on the sidelines, eyes never leaving Regulus. I took a seat, watching as he angled the handle of his broom almost perpendicular to the ground and began to plummet rapidly.

_A Wronski Feint._

I smiled, imagining how proud Ron and Harry would be of my ability to identify Seeker diversions. Regulus was mere feet from the ground when he pulled out of his dive and spiraled off. I didn't know how long I sat there watching him practice like a weird stalker until he spotted me. The Snitch flew in my direction, and when he slowed and dropped in altitude, staring at me in confusion, I leapt to my feet.

_Stop. Being. So. Effing. Creepy._

I then did the most awkward thing possible.

I fucking  _waved._

Even from a distance, I saw his dark eyebrows furrow.

I took a deep breath, smoothed my robes, and calmly walked to the gate, feeling utterly mortified. As soon as it clanked shut behind me, I scarpered—or, tried to.

Only a few paces in, I slammed headlong into someone, bouncing off the person's chest and falling backward, flat onto my arse.

_Painfully._

"Bloody fucking hell, Hermione," a very familiar voice said as I spat hair from my mouth and groaned. I opened my eyes and blinked up at Sirius as he loomed over me, holding out out his hand. "Where are you sprinting off to this time?"

"Er…" I mumbled as he helped me to my feet.

"Hang on," he cut in, eyes widening. "You were watching my brother practice."

"Well that wasn't my intention," I retorted defiantly, brushing dirt from the back of my robes. "I was on my way from Hagrid's when I saw that the pitch was still lit."

"So you decided to stick around?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. He didn't look angry, but instead rather curious.

"He's a really talented Seeker," I answered with a shrug.

"Can't deny that," he said with short, barking laugh. "Don't tell James I said that, though. Reckon he could play for England if he hadn't already—"

He broke off, frowning over my shoulder toward the pitch.

"Not that my parents would've allowed it, anyway," he finished after a beat. "Professional athlete is apparently an unsuitable career for someone of his station."

I frowned too. I hated the bitter tone in his voice whenever he spoke of his parents.

"So what are you doing down here, anyway?" I asked.

"What do you think?" he snorted and gestured toward the Quidditch pitch. "Wanted to have a word with Reggie. It's bloody impossible to catch him without his mates. He stays after practice sometimes to run drills. Clear his head."

"And what are you going to say to him?" I asked slowly, a feeling of dread in my stomach.

Sirius's frown deepened. "Not quite sure yet, honestly. I was just planning to wing it."

"Wing it?" I repeated.

He shrugged.

"Do you really think a conversation like that is something you can wing?" I asked quietly, taking a step closer to him. "You can't exactly wave him down from his broom and say  _'Hey little bro, nice weather tonight. By the way, spied on you at a creepy Death Eater rally. What's that all about?'"_

He furrowed his eyebrows, considering my words. I was momentarily distracted by the healthy stubble on his cheeks. Apparently he hadn't shaved in several days.

"I think you might need to think this one through a bit," I said softly, reaching out to touch his arm briefly.

"Damn it," he breathed after a moment of silence. "You aren't Remus under Polyjuice, are you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Remus isn't the only wise one around here, you know," I replied with a laugh.

"Yeah, but he's usually the only one to call me on my shit," Sirius said with a snort. "James is too loyal and Peter is too bloody sycophantic."

I bit my lip. Peter's relationship with his friend's was something else I should probably pay more attention to.

Sirius sighed in defeat.

"Back to the castle, I reckon?" he said, offering me the crook of his elbow.

I nodded and accepted his arm. The warmth radiating from him was beyond pleasant compared to the chilly autumn evening.

"What brought you down to Hagrid's?" he asked after a brief silence. "James and I have been meaning to visit since the start of term. One of Da—er, Mr. Potter's cousin's works on a dragon reserve in Wales. James dragged me up there for a weekend at the start of summer hols."

"Oh, Hagrid would love to hear all about that," I replied, grinning as I thought of the joy a story like that would bring Hagrid. "His lifelong dream is to own a dragon, you know."

"Yep, I know," said Sirius. If he was curious as to how I knew that fact, he didn't let it show. "So?" he questioned, drawing out the one syllable word into two. "Why were you down there?"

"Er," I said, once again unsure of how to respond. Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Well, first of all, I wanted to tell him about my first few weeks at Hogwarts. He accompanied me to Diagon Alley for my school things, so he's been keeping an eye on me as I acclimate and such."

Sirius looked over at me and nodded, encouraging me to continue.

"And secondly…" I broke off and bit my lip. I slid my hand up Sirius's bicep, grasping it to halt our progress up the lane. He stopped and turned to face me, a puzzled look on his face. I glanced around into the dark night and impulsively decided to share a little more of the truth with him.

"Can you keep a secret?" I whispered, stepping closer to him.

"You know I can," he breathed.

"Even from James," I clarified.

He raised his eyebrows. "But—" he began.

I raised a hand to cut him off. "No, I mean you can't tell anyone. Not even James."

It took him a bit longer than I thought it would to decide. "Fine," he conceded. "Not even James. But just so you know, I'm breaking Marauder code."

I brought a hand to my heart. "Marauder code?" I gasped. "You should have said so! That's sacred! Obviously I can't tell you now."

I turned on my heel to continue toward the castle, but just as I knew he would, he reached out and grabbed my hand.

"Wait!" he whispered frantically as he pulled me back. When I was standing in front of him again, I raised my eyebrows and smirked up at him. "I think we can make an exception," he said, his sparkling eyes betraying his fervor. Flecks of blue were prominent against silver. "Just this one time."

I grinned at him, adoring the excitement on his face. It reminded me of the week leading up to Christmas at Grimmauld Place. I half expected him to break out into "God Rest Ye Merry, Hippogriffs."

I took a deep breath, my smirk sliding away as my face grew solemn.

"I'm making a potion," I whispered. "It's terribly experimental—dangerously so. Like, disastrous-to-get wrong sort of potion. But if I manage to get it right…" I trailed away and smiled hopefully. "It could do something  _amazing_  for a dear friend of mine."

"Something amazing," he repeated, blinking at me as he digested what I'd just revealed.

I nodded.

"You're pretty good at Potions, aren't you?" he asked.

I frowned. "I mean, not as good as Lily, I guess. But I can hold my own."

"And it's for a friend of yours?"

"It would be life-changing for him," I clarified.

"Well, that's all I need to hear," he said, squeezing my hand which I hadn't realized was still in his. "Do you need help?"

"Help?" I repeated, flabbergasted.

"Of course," he shrugged. "I'm pretty decent at brewing. James likes to take credit for our Hangover Elixir, but he forgets who came up with the entire first phase of it."

I frowned. This was more than I expected.

That meant I would have to  _share_  more than expected if I took him up on his offer.

I wasn't sure how I could possibly do that.

"You don't have to answer yet," he said, a corner of his mouth quirking upward, "but the offer stands."

I nodded at him. He looked down at our still grasped hands and loosened his grip momentarily, only long enough to slide his long fingers between mine.

"Come on, I'm sure it's past curfew and James has the cloak tonight," he said quietly, pulling me along behind him as he began to walk again. I did an awkward little skip to catch up.

"I do have one question though," he said as we neared the steps leading to the doors of the castle. I sucked in a sharp breath. "What did any of that have to do with Hagrid?"

"Oh," I said with a puff of laughter. "I need his help tracking down an important ingredient."

"Which is?" he asked, looking over at me.

"Occamy egg shells," I replied without giving myself time to second think my answer.

He froze with one foot in the air. His boot crunched against the ground as he set it down slowly and turned to me, blinking.

"Say what, now?" he asked incredulously.

"You heard me. Don't think too much into it. If I accept your offer..." A brief, hopeful smile crossed his face. "I'll tell you exactly why I need them."

"Deal," he said, squeezing my hand once again.

We were only meters away from the stone steps leading to the castle. I wasn't sure what it was—his kindness or maybe just the comforting warmth of his palm—but I suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to tell him—

"Sirius?" I murmured as we climbed the steps leading to the oaken double doors. "Can I tell you something else?"

"Anything."

"Today's—" I swallowed thickly. "Well, today is my birthday," I whispered as we reached landing leading to the entrance.

He whirled me around to face him so quickly that his hands flew to my waist to steady me lest I tumble sideways down the steps.

"You're fucking with me," he said, eyes searching my face for any hint of jest. I bit my bottom lip, and he knew immediately that I wasn't joking. "Fuck me, Hermione. Why didn't you say anything?"

"It's not that big of a deal. I just wanted you to know, because, well…" I sniffed and blinked up at him. "You know, we're friends now."

"Damn right we are," he said softly. His hands were still at my waist. His fingertips shifted slightly, bunching the fabric of my maroon jumper.

My tongue darted out subconsciously to wet my chapped lips.

"We're friends," he repeated, his left hand moving to cup my cheek. "And I don't want that to change. But," he paused, his thumb briefly swiping across my cheek, "if I kiss you, just once, you know, for your birthday—will you hold it against me?"

My heart simultaneously seemed to leap into my throat and skip multiple beats at the same time.

"For my birthday?" I repeated as he ducked his head. He nodded, and I could feel his breath hot against my face.

_Spearmint._

"Well, just the once," I breathed.

It was all I managed to get out before his lips crashed down onto mine.

* * *

_savior, reign me in_  
don't mind my mad behavior  
savior, reign me in  
one day I will save you  
Mad Behaviour — Izzy Bizu

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Please let me know what you think in a review! Also, special thank you to my two wonderful betas Mahawna and Zabethou!
> 
> Also, I am so honored that GTTN was nominated for the Shrieking Shack Society's 2017 Marauder Medals in two categories: Best WIP and Best Pairing for SiriMione. You guys are the best!


	22. Friends and Unforgivables

* * *

**Chapter 22: Friends and Unforgivables**

* * *

"Wow, I wonder what it'd be like to have a difficult life?" said Harry sarcastically. Ron laughed, but Hermione frowned.  
_—Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix,_  J.K. Rowling

* * *

"And a very happy birthday to you, Miss Granger!"

"Thanks, Sir Nicholas!" I called after the ghost. Nearly-Headless Nick waved cheerfully back over his shoulder, causing his head to wobble on his ruff, before drifting through the wall at the end of the corridor.

"Such a thoughtful man," the Fat Lady sighed wistfully, fanning her pink cheeks. "Devilishly handsome, as well. If only I'd been born a century later…"

"Are you really from the 1300s?" asked Sirius curiously. He was a step behind me, his hand light against the small of my back.

The Fat Lady frowned. "Don't you know how rude it is to ask a lady her age?"

I shot Sirius a reproachful side-eye and coughed awkwardly. "Er, sorry. Mulled mead."

The Fat Lady sniffed indignantly. "I certainly need a flagon now that you've reminded me—"

Her voice died away as her portrait swung open and granted us entrance into the common room.

* * *

_Friends_.

The word repeated inside my head as I climbed the spiral staircase half an hour later.

I actually appreciated the simplicity of it. I  _refused_  to revert to my normal response of obsessively overthinking every single move. I was actively choosing to go with the flow.

My life didn't need any more complications.

I pushed open the door to my dormitory, a smile on my slightly swollen lips, and made an immediate beeline for my trunk. I plucked my beaded bag from the very top, ignoring Mary's greeting from where she sat crossed-legged on her bed, braiding Alice's hair into a French plait. I pointed my wand into the bag's depths, performing a silent Summoning Charm in search of—

"Ah-ha!" I said triumphantly as the black leather photo album flew into my hands. I ran my fingertips over the gold embossed  _Hermione Jean Granger_ at the bottom corner of the front cover.

It had been a gift from my parents for Christmas of my fourth year. I'd sent their gifts by school owl that year, just as I had the previous two holidays, and for the first time, the same owl had returned bearing a brightly wrapped parcel containing the photo album. My dad had always been a bit wary of sending packages via owl ("Letters I can understand," by father had said stubbornly, "but a heavy parcel? The ruddy owl is going to lose it before it even gets to Glasgow!"). However, my mother had evidently won out, judging by her gushing letter reminding to me to take plenty of photos of the Yule Ball.

I sat cross-legged on my bed and rifled through the album hastily in search of one photo in particular.

"Everything okay, Hermione?" Alice asked curiously, then let out a small yelp as Mary pulled her hair tighter.

"Yeah, just looking for…" I bit my bottom lip as I flipped through a few more pages, passing over photos of Victor and I posed in front of the Durmstrang ship before the ball. The first shots could only be described as stiff, but a few whispered compliments from my date had me beaming brightly at the camera. His arm was draped around my waist, the corners of his mouth turned upward into the closest thing to a smile the broody Bulgarian could manage. I paused momentarily on a photo of Ginny and Harry laughing and swooping around on broomsticks in the Weasley's orchard. I let out a puff of laughter as I watched Ginny send Harry a rude hand gesture after he blocked her attempt on goal. I could practically hear Mrs. Weasley threatening to jinx her fingers together. I flipped backward a few pages, knowing I'd gone too far, and—

"A photo," I breathed when I finally found it.

It was a picture taken by Sirius himself on Christmas day at Grimmauld Place. Harry and Ron stood on either side of me in front of the fairy-lit Christmas tree, our arms thrown around one another, all three of us grinning broadly at the camera. I sat there for a moment, entranced by the memory. Every few seconds, Ron would send a furtive glance in my direction, his freckled cheeks ruddy from Fred's nicked Firewhiskey and blue eyes dancing with happiness. Harry was laughing at something in the distance, and I hazarded a guess at it being a joke from Sirius, because at the end of the approximately ten second loop, photo-Hermione also collapsed against Harry's side in a fit of giggles.

"Is that James?" asked Mary, suddenly very close to my right ear.

I had been so engrossed with the photo that I hadn't noticed Mary and Alice take a seat on either side of me, both peering over my shoulder. I jumped and made to slam the album shut, but Mary's manicured hand shot out and blocked the action.

"Of course not," I replied with a sniff. "It's a photo of my two best friends from Ilvermorny." I let out a thoughtful hum that I hoped was convincing. "He does look a bit like James though, doesn't he?"

"Dead ringer," snorted Alice. "They could be brothers."

"The ginger is rather cute, too," Mary giggled.

"Too right he is," I murmured.

_Was._

When my two dormmates wandered back over to Mary's bed to finish Alice's hair, I unstuck the photo from the page, used  _Gemino_  to duplicate the image, then shrunk the copy to the right size. I slipped the locket from Aberforth out from beneath the collar of my shirt, smiling at the rose on the front as I unclasped the hinge. I wondered if roses held any sort of significance to the Dumbledore family. I muttered a Permanent Sticking Charm and watched as the edges of the photo rounded out to fit the window of the locket.

I gave my two favorite boys one last smile before closing the locket with a metallic click and tucking it away beneath my jumper.

"How's your day been?" I asked Mary and Alice as I walked over and plopped down onto the end of Alice's bed.

* * *

When I pulled back the blanket of my four-poster after my shower a little while later, I gasped aloud at the discovery of one last birthday treat lying on my pillow: a box of lemon Sugar Quills. I detached the card from the bright red ribbon tied around it.

_Happy Birthday, friend._

_Love, Lily_

I grinned like a loon. Sugar Quills were my absolute favorite sweet. I glanced over at Lily's bed, hoping to thank her, but her bed was still pristinely made, her school bag also nowhere in sight. Prefect meetings were usually held on Monday nights.

It wasn't until I was tucked into bed not long after that I realized I hadn't ever shared that fact with Lily. Remus, however, had offered me one a few nights ago while we revised together in the Library.

"My pare–er, mum was a dentist, so I've never been a big fan of sweets," I'd told him as I accepted, "but there's just something addicting about Sugar Quills." After a quick suck at the delicate, sugar-spun end, I had amended my statement, "Especially the lemon-flavored."

I drifted off to sleep with a contented smile.

* * *

I opened my eyes and blinked rapidly as blinding lights overwhelmed my vision. For the fifth time that evening, I was flat on my back in the middle of the Room of Requirement, my entire body aching.

"Not again!" I groaned as I flexed my extremities. The person standing over me slowly came into focus as my vision acclimatized. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Better than last time," said Gideon as he held out his hand and pulled me to my feet, "but you've got to be _faster._  I'm going easy on you. Your spellwork is incredible, but you always let me get a full step ahead of you."

"I'm not exactly an athlete or anything," I grumbled as Gideon gave me back my wand. Sweat was pouring down my face, dripping into my eyes. I used the tail of my white oxford to mop my face clean, then cringed at the impropriety of the action.

"No one said you had to be," Gideon countered, not even bothering to hide the fact that his eyes had strayed to my briefly exposed stomach, "but you need to work on your agility. I can see your mind forming a plan, but your body just doesn't have the ability to put it into action."

"And what do you propose I do about that?" I asked crossly, folding my arms over my chest.

_I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask him to train me._

"Well, first of all, you and I are going to start running together," he replied matter-of-factly.

I gaped at him.

"Did you just say  _running?"_

Gideon nodded. "We'll take it slow at first, just Tuesday and Thursday mornings. We'll work our way up from there."

"Do I look like the sort of person that  _runs?"_  I asked, appalled, gesturing up and down my body.

Gideon narrowed his eyes sternly. "That brings me to my next point: you've  _got_  to start eating more." He reached out and wrapped his hand around my forearm. His fingers could have easily encircled it twice. "You can't build any muscle if there isn't enough fuel."

I scoffed as I shook him away.

"It's not my fault!" I retorted indignantly. "We were on the run! I lived in a bloody tent for more than half a year. Do you have any idea how hard it is to tell which mushrooms are edible and which will kill you?"

Gideon cocked an eyebrow. "Actually, I do. Survival training at the Academy. Six weeks alone in the Siberian wilderness with only your wand and the clothes on your back."

I sniffed, my nose in the air. I didn't know why his criticisms brought out such stubbornness in me.

"And you aren't on the run anymore, are you?" he pointed out. "You've got the Hogwarts house elves to take care of you now."

I laughed dryly.

_Mentioning slave labor wasn't exactly the best way to advocate your point, Gid._

"Fine," I sighed. "Exercise and more hearty meals. Anything else?"

"Yes, actually, but it's on a different subject entirely," he said, his tone a bit uncertain as he waved me over to the back of the Room of Requirement. Where earlier there had been a stretch of blank stone wall, there was now a massive brick fireplace. Two squashy crimson armchairs faced a merrily blazing fire.

"Sit," he said as he sank into one of the chairs and ruffled his ginger hair. It was longer than it had been when I first met him, curling near his ears and at the nape of his neck. If he continued to let it grow, it would curl into adorable ringlets, just like Charlie's and Percy's hair had done.

"Well?" I asked as he examined me closely. He was making me nervous.

"Moody got you a book for your birthday," he said slowly after another moment of silence. "Have you read it yet?"

"My birthday was literally three days ago," I replied with a frown. "I haven't had a chance yet."

He hummed pensively, tapping his index fingers against the arms of the chair and staring into the crackling fire. I watched him apprehensively, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

"Oh," he said, looking to me suddenly, "and happy birthday! Sorry, haven't had a chance to get you a gift."

I laughed. "Didn't expect one, honestly. We both know it isn't really my birthday anymore. Who told you?"

"Fabian," he answered simply, then chuckled at my bemused expression. "Who heard it from Moody, who was told by Dumbledore. Don't tell him I mentioned it, but I'm pretty sure Fabian is planning to bring you a tin of Molly's treacle fudge to the next meeting. Make sure to act surprised."

My mouth actually began to water at the thought. "Oh God, Molly's fudge is heavenly."

"Too right," Gideon agreed with a nod. "So, you haven't read  _Protection Charm Your Mind_  yet." I shook my head. "But you're a decent Occlumens, aren't you?"

"Er, I wouldn't go so far as decent," I replied with a grimace. "Merely… passable."

"Passable," he repeated under his breath as he scratched his cheek thoughtfully. It was clean shaven, which I knew meant he had visited the Auror Office that day.

"I've never had any proper training. All self-taught."

"Okay, then that's something else we need to practice."

"Hang on a moment," I said, sitting up straighter in my chair. "By practice, you mean, like,  _you_  performing Legilimency on me?"

"How else are you going to learn?" Gideon snorted. "I'm not a master Legilimens by any means, but we're taught the basics at the Academy."

My eyes widened in horror. "But then you'll see—" I faltered, searching for the right word. "Well, everything!"

"I'm not going to delve into your private thoughts, Hermione," he reassured. I was still unconvinced, and I knew he could tell by my expression. "Is there anything in particular you don't want me to see?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I, er, well, I guess not," I conceded. "But Gideon, what you may see—it's not pretty. Some of it is downright disturbing."

"I expected as much. But I'm an Auror, Hermione. We're trained for this sort of thing."

This reminded me of a question that had been plaguing me for the past few days.

"Wait, why did Moody get me that particular book in the first place?" I asked. "Does he  _know_  about me?"

The question seemed to catch Gideon off guard.

"'Course not," he answered. "But you can't hide much from Moody. He knows there's something fishy about you. You're damn lucky to have Dumbledore vouching for you, otherwise I'm sure Moody would've locked you in a cellar, tied to a chair until you spilled your entire life story."

"Small comfort," I muttered under my breath.

"He might've worked it out on his own, knowing Moody, but I can't be sure," said Gideon, a note of pride in his voice. He and Fabian thought very highly of their mentor, as did I. "You shared a little too much information at the last meeting. I think he's certain you aren't a Death Eater, but no one else in the Order knew that Rookwood had turned."

"Are you saying that I  _shouldn't_  have mentioned that?" I asked, frowning.

At the Order meeting on Saturday, Benjy's friend Pierce, who was apparently employed by Magical Maintenance, had brought up some suspicious happenings in the corridor outside of the Department of Mysteries. After hearing Rookwood's name, I thought I had done the right thing by speaking up and confirming the Unspeakable's counter-allegiance. On either side of me, Gideon and Fabian had sat up straighter in their chairs, and I'd watched Gideon's scowl deepen as Dumbledore reminded them of their lack of evidence. They had nothing substantial, meaning all they could do was keep a close eye on the Death Eater.

"S'not what I meant," said Gideon, shaking his head. "I'm not explaining this well. Moody gave you that book because he knows there's something important inside your head, something that needs protecting. And he's right on the money, isn't he? It's only logical that you and I should practice doing just that."

"Fine," I sighed. "Merlin, I hate it when you're right."

I caught myself, flinching at the realization that I was speaking to him the same way I would have done to Ron. I reminded myself not to confuse the two, regardless of their similarities.

"I often am," Gideon replied with a grin. I let out a small laugh before he added. "Next time we meet, though. You've taken enough of a beating tonight."

I nodded ruefully and rubbed the back of my head, which was still throbbing after multiple encounters with the ground.

Another thought hit me suddenly, something I'd read in  _Mastering Your Mind: A Handbook of Elementary Cerebral Magic._ I'd purchased the book on a whim from Flourish and Blotts during the holiday after my fifth year, Harry's disturbing visions still horribly fresh in my mind. It's instruction had helped me develop the rudimentary Occlumency skills I now possessed, but it was also a prolific resource for much more than that.

"Oh!" I burst out. Gideon raised his eyebrows. "I have a question. Dumbledore asked that I provide him with memories—bits of my past life that he can examine in his Pensieve. If my Occlumency skills improve, won't that help in memory retrieval? Make my recollections more precise and organized?"

"Very much so, actually," said Gideon with a look of approval. "A successful Occlumens is not only able to seal their mind to magical intrusion, but they're also able to choose specific thoughts and memories to protect."

"Compartmentalization."

"Exactly, memory retrieval is all about focusing on detail," said Gideon with a nod. We were both near the edge of our seat, leaning toward one another, engrossed in the conversation. "But when it comes to Occlumency, the hardest part isn't establishing the walls nor isolating the memories. With a little practice, that can be relatively simple. The problem is maintaining your defenses. Fortifying them. Ensuring that they're impenetrable and able to withstand not only the most vicious of assaults, but also to the most subtle."

—the most vicious of assaults.

_'You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth!'_

I could still remember the sensation of her magic assaulting my mind as her wand tortured me—the same wand that was currently in my lap. I ran my thumb along the rune-carved handle, and my wand emitted a pulse of heat, reassuring me of its allegiance and regret. I honestly found it incredible how despite the agonizing pain of Bellatrix's curse, I had been able to recognize the distinct prod of rancidly sweet, yet somehow still dryly sleek magic, like a snake curling around my brain, constricting and probing, searching for an entrance, a point of weakness—

"I know vicious attacks," I murmured, eyes fluttering shut.

It had been so difficult to sustain my barricades and attempt to project a false truth while I was just absolutely  _positive_ that I was dying. Her serpentine coil of magic had seemed to flick out its tongue, tasting the memory I wanted her so desperately to believe. However, the snake had known that the flavor of the memory was…  _off._

Corrupt magic knows its own, after all. It can identify deceit.

After Griphook's lie, reassurance that she hadn't failed her Master, Bellatrix must have decided that whatever she sensed stemmed from my fear rather than dishonesty.

I was astonished that she'd bought it, but desperate times, desperate people—

I shuddered.

"You're more skilled than you're letting on," Gideon accused, not unkindly.

"No," I replied honestly. "Adrenaline is a powerful drug. In some ways, torture muddles your mind, but there are moments of, well, clarity. That's how I was able to lie. It wasn't the most convincing of lies, in hindsight, but she eventually bought it."

"Torture?" Gideon repeated sharply.

I winced. I'd forgotten that Gideon didn't know.

"The Cruciatus," I murmured, averting my eyes to my lap.

_No, stop avoiding. Face the reality of your past head-on._

I lifted my gaze to look Gideon straight in the eyes, a look of what I hoped was indifference on my face. His lips were pressed together in a hard line as if restraining himself from investigating further.

"I told you," I said flatly. "Downright disturbing."

He then surprised me by placing a hand on top of my own, which was gripping the arm of my chair so tightly that my knuckles were white. Without giving myself a chance to second-guess, I turned my hand over and laced my fingers together with his. The palm of his hand was roughly calloused, but just like with Sirius, his warmth calmed me.

"You're going to have to relive it," Gideon said softly. "To procure the memory for Dumbledore, I mean. Though in reality the charm takes only seconds, you'll feel as if you've experienced it all over again."

"I know," I replied, and I was ashamed to find my voice quavering slightly.

_Get a grip, Hermione. You're stronger than this._

But the idea of revisiting the drawing room of Malfoy Manor or the devastation of the final battle—not just in my dreams, but actually feeling like I was  _there…_

Well, frankly, the concept nauseated me.

"I could do it with you."

"Er, what?" I asked, shocked by the offer. "Is that even possible?"

He nodded. "If we perform the charm simultaneously. I have a friend who works in the Department of Mysteries, on the team researching memory isolation and extraction, actually. It's typically used whenever two people are attempting to recall the same memory, but according to her 'dual casting has the potential to stimulate more neurons.' The more magic, the better I suppose."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Aren't Unspeakables supposed to be a bit more secretive about their research?"

"She's a member of the Order, though a little more behind the scenes than most. She knows the right information to share for the greater good."

_The Greater Good._

"Help might…" I broke off, chewing on my bottom lip. "I guess help would be easier than doing it alone."

Gideon squeezed my hand, which was still firmly clasped in his.

"But I don't think we should start with the worst of it," I added. "I don't think I can handle it yet."

"You have seven years worth of knowledge to share, Hermione. We can start wherever you'd like."

* * *

"Severus!"

"Granger."

"How many times must I tell you to call me Hermione?" I sighed as I carefully fetched our potion from the cupboard and slid it into a brown paper sack. I glanced around the shadowed, empty dungeon theatrically. "There's no Slytherins around tonight. You don't have to worry about being seen consorting with a Dumbledore."

The corners of his mouth twitched. "I was worried you'd be late."

"Late?" I snorted. "It's not as if we'd arranged a time, remember? You raced out at the end of last class before I could even ask."

"There was no need. If you knew the potion well enough, you would be here before sunset."

I rolled my eyes. There was just something about Severus that instilled a surge of confidence in me. Maybe it was because he was a puzzle I was set on solving. I sighed dramatically as I thrust the sack into his hands. "I'm not going to lie, your persistent doubt in my abilities cuts deeply."

"Careful!" he exclaimed as he cradled the bag gently in his hands.

"Ever heard of a Cushioning Charm?" I asked with a smirk.

He raised his eyebrows before shrugging. "Trust no one."

"Merlin, Sev," I said, shaking my head, "that's a sad life to live."

He flinched at being addressed by the nickname Lily had given him. My goal had been to rattle him.

He began to open the bag to check on the condition of the potion, but I leapt forward just as his fingers slipped beneath the fold. "Don't!" I shouted, snatching it back from him. "The sack is charmed to repel all ultraviolet light. We mustn't open it until we're outdoors."

His jaw dropped in shock momentarily before he finally smiled in approval. "Very clever."

My cheeks colored at the compliment. "It just made sense. It took a bit of research to find it, but it was relatively simple to master."

I didn't mention that I'd found the charm in a very dusty book in the Restricted Section of the Library. Likely not how Uncle Albus expected me to use the pass he'd given me, but it was productive either way.

"I think it would be best for us to go up to the Astronomy Tower," I stated matter-of-factly. "It's the highest point of the castle, and recent research has shown more favorable outcomes in the second phase when the midpoint potion is left closer to the full moon. Though according to the Vogel study, the curve seems to level off at altitudes higher than—"

"Okay, okay!" Severus interjected. I frowned at the interruption, but he was shaking his head amusedly. "I get it, you've done your due diligence. My plan was the same. Let's go."

We were silent for most of the walk. I cast around for any topic of conversation, but the only thing we had in common was the potion.

Or, at least, as far as he knew.

"I've also been researching the best method to conceal it overnight," I said as we climbed the spiral staircase to the Astronomy Tower. "The simplest would be to cast a Repelling Charm, and maybe even a mild Compulsion Charm for good measure."

"You didn't think we were just going to leave it, did you?" Severus asked, sounding surprised. "A delicate potion like Veritaserum out in the open where anyone could tamper with it?"

"So, what? We're going to stay with it all night?"

He nodded.

"Outdoors. At the top of the Astronomy Tower. On a particularly chilly September night?"

"You've got a jumper," he shrugged.

I gaped at him as we topped the last stair and stepped out into the breezy evening. The sun was almost beneath the line of the crenulated ramparts, the sky a stunning array of blood red and shades of orange.

"You're more than welcome to leave."

"Fat chance."

He chuckled softly as he checked his watch. "Let's setup. We only have three minutes." He waved his wand in a complicated motion, conjuring a tall, four-legged wooden stool from thin air.

"We'll die of boredom before sunrise," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head. I placed the bag carefully in the center and held my wand at the ready. "Keep an eye on the sun and tell me when. I'll handle the bag."

He grunted in what I assumed was concurrence. I pointed my wand at the brown paper sack, silent as the seconds trickled by, ready to vanish it away when the right moment came.

"Five seconds, I think."

I nodded even though he wasn't looking at me.

"And… now."

* * *

Severus and I sat leaning against the wall of the tower, a basin of bluebell flames between us to stave off the chill. I checked my watch with a sigh. Only four hours had passed. I'd already finished my Charms  _and_  Arithmancy essays (by squinting, headache-inducing wandlight), and since the moment we'd settled in for the night, Severus's nose had been buried in a book, his curtain of dark hair shielding his face from sight.

I had no idea how he could possibly read comfortably in such low lighting. Perhaps Ron had been onto something and the Slytherin was actually part-bat.

The quiet night was becoming overwhelming. It reminded me too much of nights in the tent with Harry in the weeks after Ron left.

"Whatcha reading?" I asked finally, voice a bit croaky after hours of forced silence.

He jerked his head up as if he'd forgotten I was even there.

_Lovely company you make, Hermione._

He moved the spine of the book into the dim light cast by the my basin of fire. I ducked my head to read the title.  _"The Art of Potion Making."_ I raised my eyebrows. "Isn't that a bit, well,  _elementary_  for your skill level?"

He scowled at me. "You'd be surprised at how much you can learn from careful study of the fundamentals."

He wasn't wrong. Gideon emphasized this point often in Defense class, and even Harry had been insistent on the importance of spells like  _Expelliarmus_  in D.A. meetings.

Well, the charm  _had_  saved his life, but the point stands.

I shifted uncomfortably; the stone of the rampart had long since numbed my bottom. Severus pointed his wand in my direction, and I flinched instinctively, but a moment later, I felt as if I were sitting on the most luxurious feather mattress I could imagine.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Ever heard of a Cushioning Charm?" he asked sardonically.

I opened my mouth to respond with an equally witty quip, but I was struck dumb by the sound of a distant, eerily familiar howl.

Severus tensed immediately, leaning forward.

"Don't—" I began.

The words  _don't you fucking dare_  were on my lips, but I caught myself. Severus knew what was out there. There was no reason for him to know that I did as well.

"Don't you just love the sounds of the forest?" I finished mildly. "Uncle Albus said there might be a pack of very intelligent wolves out there. Fascinating, isn't it?"

The scowl on Severus's face made it clear that he wasn't fooled in the slightest.

* * *

"Why the fuck are  _you_  here?"

I awoke in a state of outright confusion. I opened my eyes blearily, squinting as I took in my surroundings. My head was resting on an unfamiliar shoulder, my neck stiff from sleeping at such an odd angle. I sat up slowly, wiping a fairly large amount of drool from the corner of my mouth with my sleeve.

"Jolly good morning to you too, Snivellus," a voice I would now recognize anywhere said above me.

I scrubbed my hand roughly across my face to clear my head.

_Right._

Veritaserum. The full moon. The Astronomy Tower.

Severus Snape.

_But then why in Merlin's name was Sirius here?_

"I repeat," said Severus coolly. "Why the fuck are you here?"

The moment my head left his shoulder, Severus slid at least three feet away from me. He was now glaring at Sirius with a look of savage contempt.

"Thought Hermione might like a spot of breakfast," said Sirius cheerfully. "Good morning, love."

"Didn't I say not to call me that?" I said instinctively as I rubbed my eyes.

Sirius hummed thoughtfully, but the shit-eating grin on his face told me everything I needed to know. He seemed to be favoring his right leg and a dark purple bruise was blossoming on his temple from his wolfish adventures the night before.

"Fuck off, Black," Severus spat in annoyance.

"Gladly," said Sirius, eyeing Severus with disdain, "but not until Hermione takes her raspberry scone and coffee." He held out a large, steaming mug and a neatly wrapped scone.

_How on earth did he know my favorite breakfast?_

"Merlin, Sirius," I said, glancing at Severus apologetically. If there was a side, of course I would be on Sirius's, but it was unfair for Sirius to pop out of nowhere like this. "We're just up here for the Potions assignment. I'll be at breakfast in a bit."

"Breakfast is over in—" Sirius checked his watch. "Oh, huh, about ten minutes ago."

I bolted to my feet. "But today is Wednesday!" I squeaked frantically. "That means we have Charms in ten minutes!"

"Yep," said Sirius with a mild shrug.

"Oh, fuck me," I muttered as I ran my fingers through my hair and whipped around to face Severus again. "Can you—" I began, but then gasped loudly. "Merlin's beard! The sunlight! Severus, why didn't you wake me? Our potion—"

"Taken care of," said Severus in the flat, emotionless voice he'd perfected throughout the years. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion and spun to look at the stool. Our potion was once again in a brown paper sack.

"But the Light-Repelling Charm—"

"Done," interjected Severus, staring down at his potions textbook.

"But…  _Oh."_ I narrowed my eyes as understanding dawned. "Don't ever humor me like that again," I said in a tone so icy, he was forced to look up. "I'm leaving. You will bring our potion back down to the dungeons."

It wasn't a question, and I didn't wait for a response. I hoisted my school bag onto my shoulder and snatched the mug of coffee from Sirius's hand. He followed with a smug grin as I strode across the rampart and down the spiral staircase. When we reached the bottom, I paused to take a long sip of my coffee. It was made exactly how I take it.

"Scone?" Sirius offered sheepishly, holding out the wrapped breakfast in his hand.

I glared at him half-heartedly as I accepted. "You git," I said through a mouthful of raspberry scone. "You did that on purpose."

Sirius smirked as he threw an arm around my shoulders and lead me down the corridor. "Just eat your breakfast, kitten. We're late for Charms."

* * *

I wiped my hands on my apron, knowing my whole body likely reeked of Firewhiskey by this point. The drunk buggers in this pub were none too careful with their beverages, and we'd been so busy that I hadn't even had a chance to pause and  _Scourgify_  my skirt. It was a little after midnight when the steady stream of customers finally relented.

As I made to slip behind the bar, a massive, hairy arm suddenly wrapped around my waist, pulling me to the side of a man who stank of stale tobacco and something stronger than Firewhiskey. "Come on, hen," he drawled loudly as he patted me firmly on the bottom. "Take off early and have a pint with me."

I recognized the voice from my last few shifts helping Aberforth out at the Hog's Head.

"Oh, Mr. Macnair, my father will have your hands for pumpkins if you keep this up," I said sweetly, slapping his wandering hands away.

"Aye, I'll wear ye down soon enough," he slurred, raising his glass to me.

I suppressed a shudder. Having to banter playfully with Buckbeak's would-be executioner was frankly disgusting.

"How about I get you one of my specials?" I asked, leaning over him and fetching his empty glass. His gaze roamed down my low-cut jumper hungrily, and I vowed to take a long, scalding hot shower as soon as I returned to my dormitory.

"Anything from you, mo ghràidh," he said, drunkenly slipping into Scottish Gaelic as he leered at me.

My special was nothing more than pumpkin juice and a splash of Goblin Gin with a charm (courtesy of Benjy) to bring out the juniper. It was my go-to whenever a sloshed patron was getting a bit too handsy. As I made my way behind the bar, a bell tinkled and I instinctively glanced up at the door of the pub. My breath caught in my throat and I missed the glass, pouring a hefty amount of gin onto the bar.

I would recognize that sleek blonde hair anywhere.

_Keep it together this time, Hermione._

I breathed ragidly through my nose as I mopped the counter with the first rag I could find, ears pricked.

Lucius Malfoy slid atop the barstool beside Macnair, straight-backed and scowling. "Your wife wouldn't be too pleased to know where you are tonight, Walden," Malfoy murmured.

Macnair scoffed and snatched up a handful of nuts from the questionable dish in the middle of the counter. "Aye, but nae a body will be telling her, will they?"

"You'll have a lot worse problems than your nag of a wife if you don't get it together," Malfoy hissed. "This is serious, Walden. You can't keep getting pissed in every pub from here to London and expect  _Him_  not to notice."

"Fuck Him," Macnair muttered.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," Malfoy sniffed. "Drink this. Then we can discuss matters properly." Malfoy set a vial of blood-red liquid onto the counter in front of his companion.

"Your drink, Mr. Macnair," I said, sliding his glass across the bar. The burly Death Eater caught it clumsily.

Malfoy reprimanded me with a sharp glare, so I winked and nodded to the glass. "Pumpkin juice," I mouthed at the blonde. His eyes remained narrowed, but he nodded at me approvingly. "And for you, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Firewhiskey neat, thank you," he replied stiffly.

"Right away, sir," I managed to bite out, swallowing the rising bile in my throat. I turned my back on the pair, reaching beneath the bar for a glass while simultaneously sliding my wand from the pocket of my apron and surreptitiously vanishing the remaining liquor in the bottle of Ogden's.

"Take the potion, you fool," Malfoy muttered impatiently. "I have news."

I heard a loud gulp behind me, and I took my time searching for a fresh bottle of Firewhiskey.

"Now that you're in your right mind again," Malfoy said disdainfully, "I have a warning from our informant." Malfoy was silent for a moment, and I slowly poured two ounces of Firewhiskey into a glass, straining to hear every word. "Minchum has given in to Scrimgeour's demands. The Aurors have been licensed to use Unforgivables."

Macnair swore colorfully.

"You must be more cautious," Malfoy whispered. "Your team is doing great work, but you've been careless. I believe the Aurors are onto you."

"Anything else, sir?" I asked, placing the glass of Firewhiskey in front of him and blinking innocently.

"No," Malfoy replied shortly, wrapping his left hand around the short glass. A large gold signet ring glinted on his middle finger. His right hand was hidden beneath the bar, and I was almost certain that his wand was pressing into Macnair's side.

I nodded and turned to finish cleaning the stack of glasses behind the bar.

"Our job is crucial, Walden," Malfoy hissed.

"Yes, sir," rasped Macnair. Now that he was a bit more sober, a note of fear was obvious in his voice, despite the fact that Malfoy must be at least a decade younger. "He has my full devotion."

Malfoy's glass of Firewhiskey was completely untouched when the pair departed the pub a few minutes later.

* * *

"Merlin fucking shit!" James exclaimed over breakfast the next morning. He'd started reading Lily's copy of the morning paper while she was still pouring herself a cup of tea, which she subsequently spilt across the white table cloth in her effort to throw a hand over James's mouth.

"Language!" Lily admonished in a hiss. "The Head Boy is meant to set an example!"

My  _Daily Prophet_  was still folded neatly beside my bowl of porridge. I knew what this morning's headline would read. I sipped my cup of tea silently, eyes moving from person to person as I watched the news unfold.

Marlene had been tossing grapes into the air for Sirius to catch in his mouth. Both had frozen, expressions wary as the last projectile flew over Sirius's shoulder and hit an unsuspecting Hufflepuff in the back of the head.

"What now?" asked Remus in a tired sort of voice between sips of tea.

Sirius snatched the paper from James's hands and read the headline aloud. I mouthed along with him, knowing the Daily Prophet all too well.

" _Scrimgeour Victorious: Aurors Authorized to Use Unforgivables."_

Sirius's voice carried throughout our corner of the Great Hall. A chorus of gasps preceded a shocked silence. Alice's eyes widened in fear, and I knew she was thinking of Frank. Having a boyfriend in the Auror Academy during wartime couldn't be easy.

"In a shocking move yesterday evening, the Ministry for Magic passed new legislation sanctioning the use of Unforgivable Curses by the British Auror Department," Sirius read, frowning down at the paper. "Previously blocked by the Minister for Magic Harold Minchum—wank, wank, political circle wank—passed by the Wizengamot with a three-quarter majority—"

"But that's a good thing, isn't it?" said Peter quietly once Sirius had finished his condensed version. "If the other side is using them, then why shouldn't we be able to?"

"Because we don't sink to their level," James spat at his friend. "They're called Unforgivables for a reason!"

I bristled at these words, vividly recalling the thrilling sensation of the Killing Curse traveling down my arm, the light leaving her eyes—

"It's not that simple!" I burst out, surprising even myself. Everyone at our end of the table rounded to stare at me. I lowered my voice to a more reasonable decibel, my cheeks burning scarlet. "The line between dark and light isn't as clear as you think. Sometimes you're left with no choice."

"Rubbish," James replied dismissively. "There's absolutely no reason—"

"You don't understand," I interrupted, eyes flashing dangerously. "If it was the choice between life and death, the choice between the life of your best friend and their murder—" I broke off, breathing unevenly through my nose. All eyes were on me as an uncomfortable silence fell.

"You have no idea. Any of you," I finished harshly as I sprang to my feet, glaring at the lot of them one last time before striding out of the Great Hall.

_'I've never known you to be so dramatic,'_ tutted Tom Riddle.

__'It_ 's your fault,'_ I shot back.

* * *

_I need to see the Room of Hidden Things…_

Why had I let myself lose control again? So utterly embarrassingly? It seemed to be happening far too often. Maybe excessive subjection to the Cruciatus Curse had actually scrambled my brain beyond repair.

_Please show me the room where everything is hidden…_

That had a lot of merit, actually. Might this all just be a product of my depraved imagination? Who was to say that it wasn't still 1998? That I wasn't simply trapped in a coma at St. Mungo's? The idea of this being a horribly fucked dream was far more reasonable than my ludicrous perceived reality.

_I need access to—_

"Hermione!"

I stopped in my tracks, still breathing heavily as I jerked my head round to look over my shoulder. Sirius was at the end of the corridor, jogging toward me, his school bag bouncing against his side with every step.

Well, he  _looked_  pretty damn real to me.

I groaned loudly, throwing up my hands to cover my still-burning face. "Go  _away_ , Sirius!"

"Not bloody likely," he countered, panting slightly as he reached me.

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. "Sod the fuck off."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, you think vulgar language is going to scare me off?" he snorted. "You've got a lot to learn, kitten."

"Damn it!" I ejaculated, stamping my foot furiously and turning to leave, but he caught me before I'd even made it forty-five degrees. His hands wrapped around my upper arms, holding me securely to face him.

_And he felt real._

"Tell me who it was," he breathed into my hair as he pulled me to his chest.

"I have no idea what you mean," I said as I wiggled in a vain attempt to extricate myself from his grasp.

He scoffed in disbelief, but loosened his grip and bent his knees until we were at eye level. "You've used an Unforgivable."

It wasn't a question. My heart seemed to be thrumming in my ears.

"That's very personal," I replied, placing my hands on his chest and pushing him roughly away. As he stumbled backward, I realized how incriminating I sounded, so I narrowed my eyes and added, "And a horrid thing to accuse someone of."

"But you're not denying it." His voice was low and oddly gentle.

"Merlin help me, I am  _so_  not having this conversation."

_Because I was tired of lying._

I turned my back on him and smoothed my robes before striding quickly down the corridor.

"Fuck, Hermione, I'm trying to help you!" he shouted at my retreating back.

_Help._

I couldn't stop myself. I wheeled around to face him again. "Help  _me?"_ I fumed. "You have  _no_ idea—"

"Then tell me!" he interjected.

I shook my head back and forth vigorously, my hair flying. "Absolutely not. You aren't ready."

"Who says?" he inquired, taking a step toward me. His gaze was severe and breathtakingly blazing.

"Me!"

"Why?" Sirius asked indignantly. "Don't give me the same rubbish you spout at James. We may be young, but so are  _you."_ He pushed his hair out of his face in frustration. "And don't even mention my family." He spat the last word from his mouth as if it pained him.

"I would never," I whispered, stung that he would even consider it. "I know you're different than them."

A muscle jumped in his clenched jaw as he inhaled slowly through his nose. "Then what is it?" he asked quietly. "Fucking hell, Hermione, you  _have_  to know that I'd help you in whatever shite you've gotten yourself into."

I gaped at him. "Gotten—" I spluttered, and all I saw was the precise shade of green of Tom Riddle's Killing Curse. "Gotten  _myself_  into? I didn't choose this! Any of this! God, if you only knew—"

"Then  _tell me!"_

I locked eyes with him, grinding my teeth. The silver that met my gaze was pleading.

"No," I replied firmly, and when he opened his mouth to protest, I held up my hand, "but it's not because I don't want to. Merlin, I'd tell you in a heartbeat if I could. But I  _can't,_ Sirius. I just can't. This is far bigger than me, bigger than any of us. I can't let you take on that burden, too. I refuse."

He glared at me for a moment more, but his face slowly softened.

I felt horribly guilty, though I wasn't sure why. I was under no obligation to tell him anything at all.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, cheeks hot. "I really am."

"This is all kinds of fucked up."

I blinked away the tears in the corners of my eyes. "Trust me, I'm very aware."

He frowned, but nodded at me in a resigned sort of way.

"Er, if it will help any, can I show you something I've been working on?" I asked, taking a tentative step toward him.

One corner of his mouth quirked upward, but his eyes were cautious. "No promises."

I nodded and gave him a small, hopeful smile before turning and walking back and forth along the stretch of stone wall, repeating my request in my head. His eyes widened in shock and he stood stock-still, gawking at the polished wooden door that had just popped into existence. I slid my hand into his and pulled him toward it.

"Remember the experimental potion I told you about?" I whispered as I pushed open the door. "This is it."

* * *

_says he made the big mistake of dancing in my storm_  
_says it was poison_  
_so I guess I'll go home_  
_into the arms of the girl that I love,_  
_the only love I haven't screwed up_  
_she's so hard to please, but she's a forest fire_  
Liability — Lorde

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Thanks for sticking with me even though updates can be slow at times. Please take a moment to leave a review and let me know what you think!


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